Dietro L'incanto (Behind the Magic) PARTS ONE & TWO
by RoseGoldstein
Summary: Severus x Hermione. Part 1: Hermione goes back to Hogwarts to continue her education and obtain her NEWTs. There she begins private lessons with re-instated potions professor, Severus Snape, who seems to have changed a lot since the Battle of Hogwarts. A friendship blossoms, and possibly something more? Part 2: Hermione begins to work at Hogwarts, where Severus still works.
1. Chapter 1 - Hogwarts Di Nuovo (Again)

PART ONE

Dietro L'incanto

(Behind the Magic)

A/N: This story will switch back and forth between Hermione's POV and Severus' POV, but all will be written in the 3rd person POV except for their inner thoughts which will usually be written in italics. Since Hermione was born on September 19th, 1979, she will soon be 19 years old when this story takes place, so she is both of-age in the wizarding world as we all the muggle world. While most of this story is canon-compliant, a few key elements aren't, most importantly that Severus Snape survived Nagini's attack. I hope you enjoy and as this is my first fanfic, any criticism and advice would be well appreciated.

Chapter 1

Hogwarts Di Nuovo

(Hogwarts Again)

She still couldn't quite believe that she was going back. How could anyone go back after all they had been through? How could she truly be standing there, looking at the Hall Class steam locomotive that had taken the witch to one of her favorite places every year for the past seven years? Well, not including last year. Last year she had lost out on her education and had been on the run. But that's exactly why she was standing where she was now. At almost 19 years old, she was returning to the place she had almost lost forever; a place that had lost so many itself, if a place could experience loss…and, she told herself as she stood admiring the train, if any place could feel loss, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry surely could.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, which had only been barely four months ago, the Wizarding world had moved on and rebuilt itself amazingly well. She knew she shouldn't be surprised—magic truly was an amazing thing—but she still had to shake her head and pinch her arm to believe that the school was already starting a new term. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, now officially Minister for Magic, and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, who had insisted that the school should reopen as it normally would. With incredible effort from the Ministry, Hogwarts past and present students, their families, and volunteers from all over the world—including Madame Olympe Maxime, and many famous Quidditch players including Viktor Krum and Gwenog Jones—the school was rebuilt and ready for the students to return.

It would be Hermione's 7th year at the school, although she and a few other students were, technically, "eighth year students" which meant that they would have their own special section of the school as the common rooms didn't have enough space for a set of eighth year students, no matter how few. Hermione would've thought that, during the reconstruction of the school, they would have found a way around this, but, as explained to her in a letter from the headmistress, apparently, magical wards were on every common room and they would not allow for any additional rooms to be made. Hermione was a bit shocked at having never known about the wards and McGonagall herself admitted of not knowing of the incredibly powerful magic either. Hermione would never underestimate the surprises, and power, of the ancient school.

The whistle from the train let out its sharp shriek and Hermione glanced at her watch, a gift from her mother and father on her 16th birthday. It was a minute to 11 o'clock. Grabbing her luggage and hurrying onto the train's platform, she began making her way towards the back of the section she had boarded. She peered into the last compartment and a small smile lit up her face. Neville, Ginny and Luna all sat together, talking and laughing. But a sick feeling formed in Hermione's stomach as she reached for the compartment's door handle. Harry and Ron were missing. This would be the first year she'd be at Hogwarts without them. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse and discomfort. She found herself meeting Ginny's eyes and took a deep, calming breath as her friend's hazel brown eyes met hers with warmth. As she pulled open the door she pushed away her sadness—it could wait.

"Hermione!" Neville jumped up and wrapped his arms around her. She couldn't help but notice that he really had matured nicely over the past year. He was muscular and held himself with more confidence.

They broke apart and Ginny's wild red hair flew as she too hugged Hermione. Luna just smiled serenely and waved the hand that wasn't holding onto a tiny white kitten. Seeing the kitten made Hermione's stomach cramp with unexpected sorrow, but she forced herself to return the golden-haired girl's smile.

"I'm so glad you and Neville decided to come back," Ginny admitted. "It just wouldn't be the same with all of you gone."

Hermione sensed Ginny's unspoken words and gazed at her knowingly. Ginny, too, would be missing Harry and Ron. Hermione suspected that the young girl was disappointed that her boyfriend and brother had not elected to return like Hermione and Neville had.

"Yes," added Luna. "Neville and I weren't sure you'd be back, because Harry and Ron wouldn't be and the three of you were all quite attached, but it's very nice that you are." As always, she spoke her mind, no matter how uncomfortable it could potentially cause everyone else to feel.

Neville sat back down next to Luna and grabbed the hand that wasn't holding the kitten. Ginny patted the space next to her on the cushion, inviting her frizzy-haired friend to sit down. Hermione sighed, suddenly finding herself feeling relieved. She had Ginny, and Neville, and even Luna. She wouldn't be alone.

The train ride was different from any other. She remembered her first year, when she had been trying to make friends, and her second year when she felt hurt and confused and worried when Harry and Ron hadn't shown up. But all the years after that she had experienced the same feelings: excitement, nervousness, anxiety, but overall hopefulness and optimism as well. Because she always, _always_ , had Harry and Ron, and she was so focused on them, or her Prefect duties, that she had been pleasantly preoccupied. This time, though, she couldn't help but miss hearing Ron's snorting laugh, Harry's complaints about his aunt and uncle and cousin, Hedwig and Pig ruffling their feathers in their cages, and Crookshanks purring… Hermione never was able to find Crookshanks. After the Death Eaters had ambushed Ron's home, the ginger cat had gone missing.

"Would you like to hold her?"

Hermione snapped out of her reminiscing in time to see Luna holding up the white kitten, both animal and witch gazing at Hermione with wide eyes. She vaguely remembered her own eyes having rolled in the kitten's direction as she thought of Crookshanks and now regretted it.

"Oh, um…" but before Hermione could decline, Luna had dropped the small kitten directly onto Hermione's lap. The kitten, who had large blue eyes, stared up at Hermione and immediately began to purr.

"Her name is Pandora Twinkle-Toes Lovegood, but you can just call her Pandora, or Dora, or Twinkle, or Toes, or Twinkle-Toes."

Hermione couldn't help but smile down at the kitten and begin petting her behind the ears. "She's adorable, Luna. Where did you get her?"

"My father gave her to me as a Christmas gift. Since the Crumple-Horned Snorkack's horn never reformed, he promised to get me another one, but I really just wanted a pet to take to my last year at Hogwarts."

Refraining from reminding Luna that what she and her father had thought was the horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was _actually_ the horn of an Erumpent, she just smiled back at the serene girl instead and continued to stroke Twinkle's ears. "Well, she really is cute. How old is she?"

"Only five months. I'm sure she'll have so much fun growing up in the castle. I plan on introducing her to the Thestrals and am hoping they become great friends."

"Be careful, Luna," Ginny spoke up. "Thestrals are gentle, but they are also carnivorous. You have to make sure they know that Twinkle isn't food."

Hermione gave a sigh of relief, glad that someone had spoken up about the potentially disastrous Thestral-Kitten friendship.

Luna nodded. "Oh, yes, I'll be sure they realize she isn't for eating. Capricus and Millie should understand, and I'm sure they'd relay the message to the rest of the herd."

Hermione could only assume that "Capricus" and "Millie" were some of the names that Luna had christened two of the school's resident Thestrals. Suddenly, she gasped, realizing she would actually be able to see the creatures this year as they pulled the carriages.

Ginny must've realized the same thing that moment as well because her eyes widened and she exclaimed softly, "Oh, wow. Just think of how many seventh-year students will be able to see the Thestrals…"

They all fell into a silence, not wanting to say anything more about it.

.Beat.

"Severus, thank you for coming." Headmistress of Hogwarts Minerva McGonagall welcomed newly re-appointed Potions Professor Severus Snape into her office with a casual wave of her hand.

"Of course, Minerva," the potions master replied. While he had been called to the headmistress's office before, this time he felt somewhat unnerved, as if he could sense something ominous awakening. He walked calmly up to the desk where she sat, his favorite black robes billowing behind him. The war, nor his time spent in St. Mungo's, had changed much about his choice in attire, however it had changed much about his overall appearance. Where he had been thin and sallow, he had put on much needed weight and muscle and his pale skin seemed a healthier complexion than before. His hair was no longer as greasy or oily looking and instead of clinging tightly to the sides of his face it was thicker and healthier, giving it a more cared for look, even though it was simply healing potions and the lack of stress that was improving it.

"Have a seat, please." Minerva indicated to one of the mahogany chairs in front of her desk.

Severus sat, rather awkwardly as he preferred to stand when having a discussion he wasn't prepared for.

"I have granted you the renewal of the potions master position at your request, but I have decided on a few terms I will need you to comply with if you do wish to continue teaching here."

As Severus had no other option available to him, he felt he had little choice but to continue teaching at Hogwarts—something he was both comfortable with and good at. He nodded curtly but didn't speak.

"To be plain, I will not tolerate any blatant cruelty towards your students. It is unprofessional to call them names and intentionally refuse to answer questions, neglect calling on students who would like to answer a query, or prevent other students from helping their classmates. Also, any student who requests additional help or practice with your class needs to be assisted. Lastly, any withdrawal of points or awarding of points must be evenly distributed throughout the different houses that you teach. In other words, you can't award only Slytherin students points. Do I make myself clear?"

One thing could be said about the headmistress…while Albus Dumbledore, one of her predecessors, had resonated power that permeated the room, Minerva McGonagall resonated power into the very heart of those who were captured within her stern gaze and crisp tone. Severus rarely ever flushed or felt ashamed, but as she stood there, bluntly laying down new rules for him as if he were her own pupil, he couldn't help but feel both flushed and ashamed.

However, he held her gaze when he replied, "I understand, Minerva."

"As I understand that most of your petulant and patronizing behavior was supported by Dumbledore to affirm your role of a Death Eater if Voldemort were ever to return, it is no longer called for, nor appropriate. Strictness is understandable, as no one would dare utter that I myself am not a strict teacher, but fairness and the occasional kindness is also crucial. In short, you no longer have any excuse for acting like a git, Severus, so I expect you to preform your teaching duties in a way that is acceptable to my terms." She held his gaze steadily, but still he did not reply. "Voldemort is gone, you are free of that burden." She said this kindly, but firmly.

When Severus continued to bite back a retort and instead turned to stare at the portrait of a snoozing Dumbledore, the new headmistress gave him a small smile and said, "I'm very sorry I ever called you a coward. Please forgive me."

Her apology was unexpected, but he forced himself to meet her eyes and say, "There is nothing to forgive." Not waiting for her to argue, and sensing that this would be the best chance for him to depart, he stood abruptly and glided out of the office.

He understood Minerva's expectations. But Minerva did not understand that he was not free. And he doubted anyone would ever understand.

.Beat.

Hermione's first evening back passed quickly. Not much was different from the previous years, except to her left and right instead of Harry and Ron, sat Ginny and Neville, and they were receiving many whispers and stares from the majority of students in the Great Hall. She was, as if she could ever forget, a war hero; one of the key players in Voldemort's downfall, and the best friend of The Boy Who Defeated The Dark Lord. Except for the stares and whispers, the new students were sorted into their Houses and headmistress Minerva McGonagall gave a short opening speech about the rebuilding of the castle and the expectations of the students as further repairs underwent to the Forbidden Forest and Quidditch Pitch.

As Professor McGonagall began to introduce the staff, Hermione couldn't help but notice that a certain black-haired, surly man was seated at the staff table—a man who Hermione had helped restore to life. And back to life he was. Professor Severus Snape still wore all black, still had cold obsidian eyes and a scowl that seemed etched permanently into his face, but even from where she sat Hermione could see the noticeable difference in his general appearance. His skin didn't seem sickly, his hair seemed somehow…cleaner…and his overall presence seemed more relaxed. Still domineering and intimidating, but not as…angry nor formidable, somehow. He even seemed younger. Minerva McGonagall introduced him as renewing his profession of the school's potion's master, and while many whispers whirled throughout the Great Hall, the headmistress proceeded as if nothing was the matter.

She introduced Molly Weasley as the new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor, which Hermione had already known about since both Mrs. Weasley and Ron had owled her with the exciting news before the start of term. The headmistress went on to introduce Matilda Murphy as the new Muggles Studies professor followed by Hestia Jones as the new Transfiguration professor who Hermione recognized as being a member of the Order of the Phoenix. The headmistress concluded introductions by informing the student body that the centaur Firenze had been reestablished back into his colony and that professor Trelawny would take over all Divination lessons.

In a letter Hermione had received before the start of term she had learned that she and a handful of other students would be required to stay behind after the feast so Mr. Filch could show them to their own personal rooms as new ones had to be built for those returning students who wished to complete their seventh year. Hermione and Neville stood together and waved goodbye to Ginny, who was proudly displaying her Head Girl badge, and Luna, who had her arm looped through Ginny's. As the students filed out of the Great Hall, Hermione noticed that Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, and, shockingly, Blaise Zabini, had returned to retake their seventh year. Ernie, Hannah and Terry greeted Neville and Hermione with smiles, while Blaise stood off away from them and stared resolutely towards the approaching, and obviously limping, Mr. Filch.

Moments later the grizzled care-taker was leading the students up to the seventh floor and down a corridor that Hermione had never seen before, while explaining that their curfew was midnight, giving them special privilege as returning seventh year students. He clearly didn't sound pleased. The next hallway they turned down, Hermione soon realized, were their own personal dorms. They each had a private room, including one for Blaise, who Hermione was still puzzled as to why he was there. Surely, being a pure-blood, he hadn't suffered much during his seventh year, and had been safe with those who sympathized with the Death Eaters during the Battle of Hogwarts. However, she didn't have long to attempt to analyze this as, one by one, her fellows were directed to their own rooms and given a password that would allow them to enter. Ernie and Terry were first, both rooms across from one another, followed by Hannah and Neville, and, to Hermione's displeasure, she and Blaise were across from each other at the end. Filch pressed a small piece of parchment into her hands with a grunt, did the same to Blaise, and then growled an unnecessary "Go to bed" before he turned and limped back down the hallway and into the adjacent corridor.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun to see Blaise looking right at her. There was no sign of a smirk on his pointed face, no hint of sarcasm in his tone, just a small smile at the edges of his lips and deep hazel green eyes staring into hers. She was too surprised to answer, but he didn't give her much time as he uttered a word she couldn't hear and stepped into his private room.

Staring at the door as it closed, Hermione shook her head, as if trying to clear it. "I feel like there are Wrackspurts in my brain," she whispered to herself.

Finally recovering from her shock at Blaise's behavior, she looked down at the small piece of paper Filch had given her. The word "insufferable" had been scribbled on the piece of parchment in the neatest penmanship she had ever seen.

But she had seen it before.


	2. Chapter 2 - Riconoscente (Grateful)

Chapter 2

Riconoscente

(Grateful)

Hermione woke up early the next morning and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, even though she had a suspicion it wouldn't yet be open. If it wasn't, she planned to head to the library to do some reading until she could have breakfast. Sure enough, the doors to the Great Hall wouldn't open for her so she headed to the library and ignored her growling stomach.

Librarian Madam Pince was already seated at her desk. She glared up at Hermione and snapped in a whisper, "What do you—" but upon seeing that it was Hermione, the librarian abruptly stopped mid-admonishment and pursed her lips together. It seemed that the returning student had some special privileges after all. The young witch gave a small smile and a respectful nod to the librarian, then proceeded to the section concerning potions. She wanted a head start on the required potions for her seventh year so that she would be prepared for her private lessons with Professor Snape which she planned on continuing.

It was almost as if just the act of thinking about the professor conjured him into being. He was bringing his hand up to shelve a particularly ancient-looking book when Hermione saw him and sucked in a breath of surprise. He flinched at the noise just as he slid the book back into its allotted spot and turned to look at her. Once he registered who was watching him, his cold stare of having been rudely interrupted, and possibly surprised, slowly faded and was replaced with an almost bored expression. He returned to the books and gently retrieved the next volume from the top of the stack. His long, pale fingers, as beautifully meticulous as ever, held the thick volume as if it weighed nothing more than a feather.

"I find that I am not the least bit surprised to find _you_ here, Miss Granger." His tone matched his bored expression.

"I wish I could say the same, professor," she mumbled.

He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at her and she could have sworn she saw a slight smirk on his lips. "I don't intend to be here long, if my presence concerns you so," he said, still in his lazy drawl.

"No, Sir. That's not what I meant. I just... in my many years here at Hogwarts I don't think I've ever once seen you in the library."

At first she wasn't sure he was going to gift her with a reply. As she took a small step to continue down the main aisle he said suddenly, "As Slughorn had the unfortunate habit of taking library books and shelving them with the books in the potions classroom, the lazy old—" Snape seemed to catch himself and decide not to finish his insult. "In short, I've been forced to do some reorganizing."

"That's annoying," Hermione replied.

Her professor's eyebrows shot up and he turned fully to look at her. For a moment, her heart seemed to give a jolt. He was staring at her as if amused, but not in a mocking manner. Instead it seemed that he was genuinely taken with her response. "Quite," he agreed. He went back to shelving the books.

Hermione decided to be brave. "I'm, um, just waiting for the Great Hall to open for breakfast. Would you like some help shelving those?" She didn't know for certain why she had made the offer. Professor Snape had been one of her callous teachers during her time at Hogwarts. She supposed it could only be a peeked interest due to the revelation that he had been working for Dumbledore all along, motivated by his love for his childhood friend, to bring down the darkest wizard their world had ever known. At least, that's what Hermione told herself the reason was. It may also have had something to do with the password he had written down for her private room, which she had tried analyzing all last night and had still come to no conclusion as to if it was a spiteful jab at her, or something friendlier.

"You'd prefer to help me shelve books as opposed to reading?" he asked, clearly suspicious. "I'm sure, not even you, have read all of the books in this library."

Hermione grinned in spite of herself. "You're right, I haven't, but I have read _most_ of them, and have all this year to get to the rest. And it looks as if you have quite a pile there. Wouldn't it be more efficient to have two people shelving instead of only one? That way both of us could be early to breakfast and avoid most of the whispers and stares." She thought she was pushing her luck, but surprisingly, Snape met her eyes and smirked.

"I suppose that would be preferable."

Taking that as a yes for her offer of help, Hermione walked over to the desk and began pulling books from the pile, not paying attention to the titles so much as their call numbers (the numbers and letters on the spine indicating where the book belonged). She began shelving the books alongside her professor. She found herself feeling slightly nervous. They were standing beside each other about an arms-length apart. She hadn't been this close to the potions professor since her sixth year. When she went to grab another book, her hand brushed along his as he reached for the same publication.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, Professor." Feeling her cheeks begin to burn, she grabbed about six more books and separated them into their own pile, so that he wouldn't have to worry about her invading his space again. She wasn't sure why she had expected his hand to feel cold and clammy. Instead, it had been pleasantly warm. He didn't react as if he had been perturbed, but then again, she hadn't dared to look at his face.

They continued to shelve the books in silence. Hermione's face went on flushing. She didn't know if she was imagining it, but her professor's cheeks looked as if they were burning slightly, too.

.Beat.

He knew he'd be seeing Hermione Granger again. The world could have ended and that witch would still have come back to Hogwarts to obtain her NEWTs. Luckily, the world hadn't ended. Not so luckily, Severus found himself running into the girl much sooner than expected. However, although their meeting uncomfortable in many ways, he came to realize he no longer held any spite or malice towards the intelligent witch, and hadn't, really, since near the end of her sixth year. It was almost—almost—as if they had picked up right where they left off from her private lessons. Her standing beside him as they worked quietly together.

Severus was relieved when they ran out of books to shelve. Well, relieved wasn't the right word. A more suitable word would be… relaxed. Because once the books were shelved, Granger took no time in announcing she was starving and saying she would see him later in the day for her potions lesson. And once she had left, well, his heart at least had slowed. Something about her presence had set him on edge, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know why. While she had grown in many ways during her sixth, though he was able to ignore those changes quite well, she now seemed to have become even more mature, so much so not even he was capable of completely ignoring. He also found it difficult to find the desire to sneer at her when he knew full well how intelligent and kind she was.

The day went by relatively quickly and, sooner than he was prepared for, his slightly larger class of both current seventh years and returning seventh years walked into the dungeon classroom and took their seats. He couldn't help his eyes from lingering on Granger as soon as he saw her figure enter the room alongside the youngest Weasley. They were talking quietly and hurriedly, but as soon as they sat down next to one another, Granger looked up, caught his eye and gave him a small smile. His lips formed into a thin line and he pointedly looked away. However, he knew he had to keep in mind what Minerva had told him the day before. Apparently, he needed to _not_ be a git. No matter how tempting the situation may be.

As he stood up from behind his desk, Severus decided to get the pain over with quickly. He looked up to address the class. "All of you here know," he began, keeping his voice deep and controlled, using every ounce of strength not to sound snarky or sarcastic or condescending. "that I, as well as many of the other professors at this school, and some of you yourselves, took part in the recent downfall of the Dark Lord." _Damn,_ he thought. _Blasted old habits_. "Voldemort," he corrected. As usual, the students seemed to be holding their breath as he spoke. At least his presence still gave that effect. He tried to ignore the fact that most of the faces were watching him with interest as opposed to wariness. He'd just have to get used to that. He took a few steps in front of them with his arms behind his back and continued, "With the fall of—Voldemort—new information about my person was made readily available to the entire wizarding world. But understand this," and he spun to face them dramatically and locked onto all sixteen pairs of eyes in turn as he slowly said, "I am still your professor. I will not tolerate foolishness and stupidity, and this class will be more difficult than any potions class you have taken previously." He couldn't help but let a little malevolence slip into his tone and was pleased to see some nervousness return to the interested faces. "With that, let us begin."

.Beat.

Her professor's voice was just as deep and captivating as always, but with noticeably less venom or condescension. The result, if she were completely honest with herself, was quite pleasant. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it was because Voldemort had been destroyed and the war was won, or because Harry was no longer at Hogwarts.

She had never fully understood Snape's absolute dislike towards Harry, but she knew it ran deep. She wondered if it still ran deep, even though Harry had treated the professor considerably different after the war. Harry had come to Snape in St. Mungo's and had apologized for thinking he had betrayed everyone. He thanked him for everything he had done to help bring down Voldemort and also apologized for always thinking the worst of him. While Snape didn't apologize for his behavior towards Harry for the past seven years, he did thank Harry for advocating that he was a war hero and insisting he be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class, which Hermione knew Snape had wanted ever since her third year, possibly longer. But she also didn't believe that Snape was shallow enough to only care about an award. However, Hermione was smart enough to know that years of Harry's and Snape's mutual loathing towards one another would not just vanish in the course of a few weeks. She also knew that, while Harry could be proud and stubborn on occasion, Snape was far more proud and stubborn by comparison.

Nevertheless, she was pleasantly surprised by the subtle change in the potions professor and found herself looking forward to the prospect of continuing private potions lessons with him. She would also continue private Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, but thought it polite to approach Professor Weasley first. If Professor Weasley was too busy, then she planned to ask Snape.

Snape put up the directions on his blackboard for the potion they were required to make for that day. It was definitely one of the hardest potions the class had yet made, but Hermione remembered a more complicated potion still—one she and the professor had slaved over together in her sixth year. Chuckling at the memory of the day he had approached her and asked for her help, she bent over her cauldron and began brewing.

"What are smiling about, Miss Granger? I hope you have not accidentally begun to brew a Laugh-inducing potion." Snape had come up behind her unexpectedly as she had been lost in her memories and brewing.

Blushing, and without looking up at her professor, she replied, "Sorry, Sir. I was just recollecting something I found humorous."

"And what does your humorous recollection have anything to do with this class and brewing potions?" he snapped.

She turned to him and met his hard gaze. "Quite a lot, actually. I was remembering one of our private lessons from my sixth year."

Apparently, he was either rendered speechless by her explanation, or didn't find her reply to be worth answering. He held her gaze for a moment longer then swept away and went on to examine Ginny's potion, who was so focused on her brewing that she hadn't heard anything that had transpired between her friend and her professor.

Hermione spent the rest of her potions class with a small smile on her face and a happily fluttering stomach. She couldn't help but notice her professor would not meet her eyes or come over to her again for the remainder of the class, and for whatever reason, this did not bother her.

.Beat.

"You will receive the grades for your potion samples next lesson. Clean up your stations and submit your samples now," Severus instructed an hour later, then painfully added, " _Please_." He didn't expect anyone in the class, except maybe the know-it-all Gryffindor, to receive a passing grade for this potion. He had intentionally given them one of the hardest potions they would learn all year on the first day. He could be rather sadistic. He didn't look up from his desk as the seventh-year students left their potion samples in front of him and retreated out of the dungeon doors.

"Excuse me, professor."

 _Of course_ , he thought. Without looking up he growled, "Miss Granger."

"I was hoping we could discuss a good time each week for us to continue our private potion lessons."

His quill slipped ever so slightly and he felt like cursing. He should've seen this coming. Maybe he had and had just been hoping the know-it-all wouldn't want to continue. For a moment he was about to refuse her, then remembered Minerva's terms of him teaching at the school. _Blast that damn woman…_ he thought to himself.

"You can leave me a copy of your class schedule and I will see where I can fit you in," he finally answered curtly, still not looking up.

He heard some rummaging and a small _pop!_ and then she was sliding a magically duplicated copy of her schedule onto his desk. His eyes flickered to it for a moment before he looked back down at the essay he had been grading. "I see you've become quite proficient in non-verbal spells, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Sir," she replied. "I learned from the best. And I look forward to studying under you again this year."

Severus felt a small shiver run up his spine. He shook it off, irritated. "There is no need to suck up to me. We both know I don't tolerate that kind of behavior."

"I wasn't 'sucking up' to you, sir."

She actually sounded a little miffed. Good.

"Very well. We will discuss your lessons after I have had ample time to look over your schedule."

"Fine," she replied, still ruffled. He heard her turn and walk towards the door to leave.

"Miss Granger," he called to her before she had reached the door, surprising even himself.

When he didn't continue right away she said, "Yes, Sir?" and he was annoyed to hear slight concern in her tone.

"What were you thinking of earlier, when I caught you giggling to yourself?" His hand was clenched on his quill too tightly. He was leaving a dark black stain on a second year's essay.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and he was immediately irritated to hear the relief and amusement in her voice. "I was just remembering the day you asked me to help you make the most difficult potion I have ever brewed to date. The Lung-clearing potion you asked us to brew today, being so complex, reminded me of our private lessons together. You always kept me on my toes, especially the night we began brewing the potion you would not tell me the name of."

He knew what potion she was referring to. And damn him if he would ever reveal to her what that potion was called, let alone what it had been used for. But the fact that she had been thinking about the two of them making a potion together, while she brewed a potion in his class, made him feel suddenly hot under the collar. What in the name of Merlin…?

"I see…" he replied slowly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Professor," the witch said. He listened to her light footsteps walk the few steps to the potions classroom entrance and fade around the corner.

Leaning back in his seat, sighing, and closing his eyes, he allowed himself to travel back in time. He saw a slightly younger Granger standing in front of his desk the first day of her sixth year, asking him if she could take both private potions _and_ Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons with him that year. He remembered immediately refusing her and sending her away while successfully ignoring the feeling of having been flattered. The memory changed to both Minerva and Dumbledore telling him that he needed to accept Miss Granger's request. He remembered storming out of the headmaster's office, furious that, along with his Death Eater and Order meetings, he was now expected to endure the most annoying of all his students once a week alternating between both the Dark Arts and potions. When he insisted that Granger should take private potion lessons with Slughorn, Dumbledore disagreed, saying that Slughorn would be too occupied with Potter. Occupied how, he would not say, which only added to Severus's fury.

He came out of his reverie and drew a hand back through his hair. He felt frustrated, but he also felt…

Pointing his wand at the student's essay on his desk, he non-verbally cast _Scourgify_ to rid it of the blemish his quill had created.

Grateful, damn it. He also felt grateful. And he hated that.

A/N: Thank you to all of the follows and favorites so far. I'm very excited to be working on my first fanfic and your support really encourages me. Please continue to leave comments and critiques! And I hope you're enjoying it so far :)


	3. Chapter 3 - Hermione's Ombre (Shadows)

Chapter 3

Hermione's Ombre

(Hermione's Shadows)

.Beat.

"Hey Hermione, how did you sleep? Have you been enjoying your private room?" Ginny came striding up to the table, The Head Girl badge pinned to her chest was shining silver, gold and red. It was the first Friday of Hermione's week back at school and she was munching on some toast at the Gryffindor table while reading a book titled _Practical but Rare Potions: Test Your Brewing Skills_.

Looking up from her book she smiled and said, "My room is alright. I'm stuck between feeling lonely and feeling spoiled."

Ginny laughed. "I thought for sure you'd be thrilled. Able to spread out all of your books and clothes and papers and not have to worry about Lavender or Pavarti trying to steal and duplicate your finished homework."

Hermione shrugged. "Sometimes when too much is different it can be a little overwhelming."

Ginny sat down and grabbed some pumpkin juice and toast. "I actually know what you mean. Being Head Girl _and_ Quidditch Captain is so weird. George and…Fred…always said I'd broken too many rules to be Head Girl, but I guess McGonagall disagrees. I always thought it'd be you."

Hermione shrugged. "It probably would've been if last year had been different." Ginny's face fell slightly so she quickly added, "But you deserve it, too, Ginny, and I'm really happy for you." And she meant it. She just couldn't help but wish she had more to occupy her mind. Snape still hadn't told her when they could start their private lessons and she had been feeling rather…restless. She was also finding it hard to sleep, and despite feeling tired, she felt fidgety and anxious. She attributed this to how long she had been on the run with Harry and Ron and the awful sleep schedules they had to endure while they were having to stay in the tent; shifting between who would take watch and who would sleep.

Hermione's silence must've troubled Ginny because the young witch whispered, "I'm glad you're happy for me, Hermione. I just wish you could've gotten the recognition you deserve."

The older girl let out a small chuckle. "I've been awarded an Order of Merlin First Class, Ginny. I'm pretty sure I've been recognized adequately. I can't even walk down these halls without younger students gawking at me."

Ginny returned her smile. "Me, too. I'm 'the girl who's dating Harry Potter' to everyone here and I'm really afraid it's going to make Quidditch tryouts unbearable. I remember all of the idiots Harry had to put up with in his sixth year." She groaned. "I swear if anyone from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw shows up to try out, I'm hexing the whole lot of them."

Hermione laughed. It felt so, so good to laugh.

Ginny turned to start on her toast and when Hermione looked away from the youngest Weasley's face she caught sight of Blaise entering the Great Hall. His head turned, obviously searching the room, and Hermione found herself frozen when his eyes hooked onto her. He stopped and held her gaze steadily for what felt like ages. Ginny turned to see what Hermione was staring, dumbstruck, at. When she saw who it was, she turned back to Hermione and cleared her throat loudly.

In horror, Hermione realized she was blushing and quickly looked down at the remainder of her toast.

"Erm, Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Why were you and that prat locking eyes like in one of those god-awful muggle romance movies you forced me to watch in my fifth year?"

"What?!" Hermione squeaked.

"You. And Zabini. Eye-snogging."

"He—just—he's been acting…weird," Hermione explained.

"Riiiight. Um. Weird _how_ , exactly? And why do you care?" Ginny probed.

So Hermione, forcing herself not to try and find Blaise to see if he was still staring at her, explained to Ginny how their rooms were directly across from one another and on her first night back Blaise had, kindly, wished her a goodnight. And how when he had just come into the Great Hall he had been looking around and as soon as he saw her he locked onto her like a well-aimed jinx.

"That…is…definitely weird," Ginny agreed. "From what Harry told me, he hates muggle-borns and so-called 'blood traitors'. I hope he's not trying to start something, the bigot."

"Start something?" Hermione could feel her face growing warm again.

"Well, yeah, you know. I'm surprised McGonagall allowed him back. What if he, like, attacks you, or something?"

"Was he affiliated with the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, but if anything was telling about who he associated with, he could've been. Voldemort may be defeated, Hermione, but we still have to be careful…" her voice trailed off and the older girl knew that her friend was thinking about Harry and Ron.

"I'll be careful, Ginny." Hermione squeezed the red-head's hand gently and then went back to her book.

 _Harry,_

 _I hope all is well with you at the Ministry. I've been paying close attention to the Prophet and it looks like things are still running as smoothly as they can. Thank you again for understanding why I wanted to go back to Hogwarts instead of immediately joining you and Ron at the Ministry._

 _School is going fine. Although it is rather bizarre…without you and Ron. Luckily Ginny, Neville and Luna are here and we spend a lot of our free time together. I think you'll be interested to know that Ernie, Hannah and Terry all came back for the NEWTs. I know Neville wants to start an apprenticeship under Professor Sprout next year and Ginny is already non-stop talking about Quidditch. I think Luna plans to do something with Care for Magical Creatures, but I never really know for sure with her. I know it's not really my business, and please don't mention to her that I said anything, but I hope you've been making a real effort to correspond with Ginny regularly. I can tell she really, really misses you. Probably just as much, if not more, as I do._

 _I hope Ron is alright. After our argument a few months ago… well, I haven't heard from him much._

 _Hagrid is doing well, but I'm sure you two are in touch. I had tea with him on Wednesday. He offered me some of his rock cakes and, of course, I tried eating one just to please him. They're still as awful as ever. I know he's a bit overwhelmed at being both a professor and the new Head of Gryffindor house, but I know McGonagall really thought he deserved the position, and I think with some time he'll be great at it… he may just need to learn a few tips from McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley first._

 _I think you should also know, if you don't already, that Professor Snape has resumed teaching potions. He's…different. I'm not sure if it's because you're not here, or because Voldemort's defeated, or because he almost died…but he seems… well, I don't really know the right word. Nice definitely wouldn't be it, but…tolerant? I don't know. But Ginny's noticed it, too, so I know I'm not going mad._

 _I know you're really busy, but please write back when you have the chance. I'd love to hear from you._

 _With love,_

 _Hermione_

It was nearly midnight when Hermione set her quill down and folded her letter to Harry. It was too late to visit the school's Owlery, so she set the letter on her desk alongside her change of clothes for the following day to remind her to send it first thing before breakfast. Leaning back in her seat, Hermione realized she felt wide awake, despite being up since six o'clock that morning. She knew it was going to be yet another night that she'd be wistfully tossing and turning in her bed for hours on end.

She checked her watch. A quarter until midnight. Maybe, just maybe, she could go to the library, pick out a book, and make it back to her room before her curfew. Or, at least, close to. Deciding to take the risk, she wrapped her turquoise bathrobe around her and slid on her matching slippers. Grabbing her wand, she cracked open her door and peered out into the hallway, non-verbally casting _Lumos_ so she wouldn't have to find her way through the castle's darkness.

The hallway was empty and silent. She crept out of her room, shutting the door quietly behind her, and proceeded down to the many stair cases that would eventually lead her to the library. Just as she was about to take a staircase down to the second floor she remembered Professor Flitwick telling her in her Wednesday's Charms class about his music room and inviting her to play the piano whenever she wanted. While only about twenty students were in the school's choir program and Hermione herself wasn't much of a singer, she was an excellent pianist, having practiced nearly every day at home during primary school and as often as she could over every summer break after she had started at Hogwarts. It was the only thing that kept her from going crazy at not being able to use magic. And it was one of the things she had missed most about leaving her home to go to Hogwarts. In all her years at the school, however, she had never mentioned to anyone about her ability to play the piano until this year. When Professor Flitwick found out he was overjoyed and insisted that she come in some time to play. While she didn't like to play for an audience, she definitely wanted to take up the kind professor's offer of letting her use the piano whenever she wanted. Although she didn't think he necessarily thought she would use it so late at night, she didn't think he'd give her a detention for it if he found out. The fact that she knew it was located at the end of the 3rd floor and wasn't near any of the common rooms or teacher's rooms, so she wouldn't be disturbing anyone, encouraged her to act on the desire.

Deciding that it would be more unlikely for her to get caught after curfew in the music room than the library, she made her way down the 3rd floor, passed the Charms classroom, passed the forbidden corridor from her first year where Fluffy had been guarding the Sorcerer's Stone, and arrived at the last classroom. The door was locked, but a simple non-verbal _Alohomora_ had it swinging open for her. She slipped quietly inside and scanned her luminescent wand around in search of the piano. She didn't want to bother casting a spell to ignite the candles and lanterns, so she continued to use her lighted wand tip to guide her around the room. She walked past the percussion instruments and Professor Flitwick's podium until she caught sight of the gleaming jet-black shine of what was unmistakably a gorgeous grand piano.

Lighting up an orb of fire, she cast it to float beside her and then set her wand on top of the piano so that it was shining over the weathered, but still beautiful, ivory keys. This way she had enough light to see her hands and all the keys. She knew quite a few pieces by heart and rummaged through them mentally, trying to decide the best piece to play. Finally deciding on one by the more modern Italian composer, Ludovico Einaudi, she set her hands to the keys, took a deep breath, and began to play.

.Beat.

It was exactly midnight when Severus had stepped onto the landing of the 3rd floor to begin his normal rounds when he heard what was undoubtedly the sound of a piano. It was extremely soft, so soft that no one who was sleeping was likely to hear it, but since he was on the alert, it was easily detectable. He followed the melody to Filius's music room and the melody grew stronger as he approached. Whoever was playing was certainly making the effort to play the instrument quietly. In all his years patrolling the castle, he had never heard the piano at this time of night, nor had he ever heard it being played so hauntingly, not even during the day.

The door to the music room was unlocked and cracked open just enough for the curious professor to make out a small blueish-white light illuminating the room. Quickly and non-verbally _Nox_ ing his wand and casting a disillusionment charm on himself, he glided noiselessly through the door.

He immediately recognized the pianist. With her wild hair pulled up into a messy bun, revealing her bare and delicate neck, Hermione Granger was running her hands expertly over the keys of the piano. Her back fully to him, he couldn't see if she was watching her fingers or if her eyes were closed. He noticed that no music sheet accompanied her and that her wand and floating fire where the only sources of light. She was playing by memory and, from what Severus could tell, she was playing flawlessly. It wasn't a song he was familiar with, but then again he didn't listen to piano music much. He usually preferred the sound of the violin or cello, especially when trying to relax.

The song she played was tranquil, but also had undertones of something melancholy and…dark. As the song reached its crescendo he felt the hair on his arms stand up despite his long-sleeved jacket. He stood, transfixed to the spot, watching as the young witch's body swayed with the music, her movements becoming larger and more emotional. Enchanted, he lowered his wand almost unconsciously and held his breath, not wanting to make a single sound that would cause her to cease her movements. The music began to slow, and grew quieter and calmer once again, pulling him back into that feeling of dark melancholy. After the last note, Hermione let her hands slowly fall from the piano and onto her lap. The flame she had conjured continued to flicker, causing blue-white light to dance across her fuzzy bathrobe and her exposed neck.

It was completely silent in the room now. It was only when he saw the slight shudder of her shoulders that Severus realized the talented witch was crying. Suddenly feeling as if he was trespassing on an extremely private scene, his neck grew hot. For the first time since he had known the girl, he found himself genuinely concerned for her.

Not knowing how else to make his presence known without startling the girl, he relinquished the disillusionment charm and relit his wand. Noticing the third source of light, Granger's head snapped in his direction and she jumped up from her seat, causing the blue flame to extinguish.

"Pro-professor," she whispered. He watched as she frantically began to wipe away her tears using her sleeve. "Professor Snape, I'm so sorry. I know it's late, past my curfew, but I… I couldn't sleep, and I… I just wanted to…"

He could tell she was embarrassed and upset and unable to find the words she needed to explain herself. Instead of becoming irritated with her, Severus felt as if his heart was attempting to grow limbs and reach out to hold her. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with him? He pushed away that absurd emotion, blaming it on the overall strangeness of the situation, and instead hitched a menacing glare onto his face.

"I know there is no excuse as to why I'm here at this hour," she was mumbling. "I accept any punishment…and I understand if you report me to Flitwick and Hagrid."

At first, Severus was confused, but then he remembered that Hagrid was now head of Gryffindor, and the music room belonged to Filius. The potions master cleared his throat and asked, using his deep baritone voice he had so often employed to intimidate, "Miss Granger, do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied, her head hung low, her eyes still reddened from her hot tears.

"You say you couldn't sleep?"

She nodded, as if too embarrassed to speak aloud.

"Then why not come to Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping draft? Or, if she had been too busy, I would have let you borrow some of my supplies to concoct one for you. Why come here instead, with the possibility of being caught out of bed after curfew?"

She seemed lost for words. "I… I did not think of that, Sir. I just wanted to get out of my room."

He was surprised at this explanation. Why on earth would the girl feel such a strong desire to vacate her room? "You make it sound as if it's a prison. Is it not up to your standards of suitable living quarters?"

"Please don't mock me, Professor," she whispered. "I would rather you announce my punishment so I can leave."

He surveyed her for a few long moments. The question he had not asked her was still nagging at him as if it were gnawing at his flesh. A fierce battle was raging inside of him. To ask her why she had been upset would to insinuate that he was concerned for her. Not to ask her would be to deny his curiosity and, most likely, cause him to become obsessed with finding the answer some way or another. Keeping his glare firmly in place and continuing with his interrogative tone he forced out, "Why were you crying?"

Hermione cringed and her eyes widened at his question. "I…I wish you hadn't seen that, Sir."

"Obviously," he drawled. "But my question has still yet to be answered."

"Are you going to give me detention? Or deduct points? Please, Professor, I just want to go to my room."

"I find that hard to believe, given that you just admitted to _not_ wanting to be in your room," he pressed. He gave her one of his infamous sneers.

But to his horror, she began to cry again. Not loud, obnoxious sobbing like he had seen her do in the past, but quiet, shuddering, unstoppable tears that ran down her cheeks and pooled at the base of her chin before falling onto her bathrobes. Without thinking, he crossed the room to her and pulled out a deep purple handkerchief from his right jacket pocket. "Here, Miss Granger." He held it out to her and she took it, slowly bringing it up to her eyes. "Would you like to sit?" he found himself asking. He knew that both his sneer and glare were gone, but his stomach had churned at seeing her begin to cry again and he knew he had to put an end to it as soon as possible.

She nodded and slumped, rather pathetically, back down onto the piano's bench. There wasn't much space for two bodies to sit comfortably, so Severus flicked his wand and a stiff-backed wooden chair appeared next to where the tearful witch sat. He seated himself in the chair beside her and surveyed her again, millions of calculations as to how to proceed next flying through his brain. Luckily, she was the one to break the silence.

"Look at me. I'm being completely pathetic. War hero and smartest witch of her age and here I am breaking silly school rules and crying."

"You're not pathetic," Severus lied. "There is, clearly, something troubling you."

She didn't respond for some time, so there was a strange silence between them, but Severus knew how to be patient. He continued to survey her even though she was making it a point not to look at him. He found her bashfulness both rewarding and endearing. Again, he pushed those emotions aside.

After a few minutes had passed she spoke barely above a whisper. "So much is wrong, Professor Snape. The world expects us to go on as if nothing happened and—" she swallowed back more tears. "And I can't move on at the pace it wants me to. And I'm here, finishing my education, but my two best friends aren't with me, and sometimes I'll be with Ginny and Neville and Luna and they'll be talking and then I'll see Neville with blood running down the side of his face, or I'll hear Ginny's gut-wrenching scream, or I'll see Luna being swarmed by dementors. I'll hear blasts and see flashes of red and green. And when I'm alone, especially in my room, I feel like the second I close my eyes someone will come crashing in and the world will shatter around me." She brought her watery eyes up and found his gaze. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Professor? So much is wrong."

Severus met her eyes and noticed they reminded him of smokey topaz. Her cheeks were tear stained and slightly pink. He thought carefully about what to say. "I believe I do understand, Miss Granger. And I have never been adept at counseling those in pain, but what I can say is… sometimes it is hard to be thankful for your survival when you have gone through so many struggles, and especially so young. It's a shame, truly, that you had to experience the pain you've suffered. And your suffering isn't done yet. It's just… shifting, finding a new way to exist now that you aren't—"

"Running for my life, fighting a war," she finished.

"Essentially. Some scars will not ever heal." For a moment he felt a twitch along his collar bone but forced himself to ignore it and continue. "However, the pain from each scar, no matter how deep, tends to lessen as time passes. My advice to you is to focus on what makes you most content. Or, in Gryffindor-speech, what makes you happiest. And to remind yourself that soon you will be making a change for the better in this world. You already have."

"So have you," she replied. "Do you focus on what makes you happiest?"

Severus was taken aback by the abruptness of her question. He found he didn't know how to reply. He felt irritated that she had dared to ask him such a personal question, as if they were friends. But he was also unprepared for the warmth he felt deep in his gut, similar to what he felt as he listened to her play the piano. "Would you like me to escort you back to your room?" He spoke softly, hoping she would understand that he didn't want to upset her, but also couldn't afford to answer her question.

She sighed and looked down at her lit wand tip, as if reluctantly forcing herself to accept that their conversation had come to a close. Then she gave a small nod and whispered, "Alright."

They walked together quietly, Severus allowing her to lead him even though he was familiar with where the new rooms had been built. He had been responsible for designating each room with protection spells as well as individual passwords that only he, Minerva, each student's Head of House, and the students themselves knew. Neither professor nor pupil spoke as they walked and he found that he had to force himself to stare straight ahead, even though he wanted to turn and watch the young witch beside him. He wanted to study her…and that realization unnerved him greatly. And he was not easily unnerved.

He walked with her to her door and heard as she whispered "insufferable." The door unlocked with a click, but Severus found himself feeling distressed for having assigned her that password. He had meant it as a small jab at her, unable to help himself, but now felt that it had been childish and even demeaning. Without thinking, he reached his arm across her, lightly brushing her shoulder in the process, and pulled the door closed again. It locked automatically, as it was charmed to do. Granger turned and stared up at him with a puzzled look. He smirked, cast a non-verbal spell, and then said to her, softly, "Brave."

"What?" she asked.

He lowered his arm back to his side and gave a curt nod towards her door. "That is your new password. Say it."

She continued to look at him, as if trying to get inside his head. He forced himself not to do the same to her, because unlike her, he actually _could_ get inside her head. She finally tore her eyes from his face.

"Brave," she whispered. The door once again unlocked with a small click. She smiled.

Not wanting to hear her thank him, he asked quickly, "What was that song? The one you were playing?"

"Ombre. By Ludovico Einaudi," she replied.

He searched his memory, trying to remember if he had ever heard of the song or the pianist, but quickly had to admit he was completely unfamiliar with both. He didn't even know what "Ombre" meant, but guessed that it was Italian.

She must have seen confusion written on his face because she added, "If only Hogwarts also taught foreign language classes." She was grinning wider, and he was glad.

Glad at her silly grin? No. Glad that she was no longer weeping pathetically. Yes, that explained the swooping feeling in his stomach.

"There is, unfortunately, a lot that Hogwarts does not teach that it should," was all he offered in reply.

"Ombre is Italian," she explained, reaching for her room's door handle.

"I gathered as much."

She turned the handle and pushed open the door, stepping inside and casting a spell to ignite the lanterns within. The light illuminated her brown curls as she said, "Shadows."

He continued to gaze at her. He wasn't sure he had been listening. He found himself staring at her silhouette in her doorway, his eyes drinking in as much of her as he could. He felt like he was in a lucid dream. Stomach swooping, brain momentarily blank, and the softly smiling witch glowing in the golden light.

"Did you hear me, Professor?" she asked.

His eyes finally met her own and he focused on her face. "I was just realizing the time. What was the translation?"

She smiled wider and his insides warmed. "I said shadows. That's what Ombre means."

"Shadows," he repeated.

She nodded. "Yes. Shadows." She stepped inside and went to close the door. Right before it closed she peered out at him and whispered, "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight…Miss Granger."

Severus finished his three hours of patrol and then stumbled into bed. During those hours he had replayed over and over the moments spent with Granger since she had arrived back at school. Shelving books, her hand brushing his, her smiling at him in class, her admitting to thinking about the two of them brewing potions, her insistence at genuinely looking forward to taking private lessons with him, and then the music room. He never knew she was so skilled at playing the piano. The way her fingers had traveled over the keys, like a lover caressing their partner. And the way she had smiled at him, multiple times. And the way he had tried to console her and help her feel better.

But after all this analyzing, he still felt at a complete loss for what was happening. He hadn't spoken with a student like that since Draco's second or third year and had always designated his Prefects to help comfort students who were upset. And he never went out of his way to do something nice for his students except awarding points, and yet he had, without a second thought, changed Granger's password to something he knew she would appreciate.

As he lay back in his bed, pulling the midnight blue blankets up to his chin, he shut his eyes and immediately the image of her blue-robed figure, with her bare neck and messy bun and skillful hands, flooded his mind. He watched as she ran her hands over the keys of the piano and then as she turned and placed them on his chest, gently drawing them from his collar bones and down to…

 _No! Bloody Merlin, no._ He forced his eyes open and rolled over with a groan.

That was enough of Miss Granger.

A/N: Alright my friends…we have had our first of many heart-warming scenes between our darlings Severus and Hermione. And while Sev's body and brain are clearly trying to tell him what we all know is coming, as in his typical fashion, he won't dare admit it. And, while it may seem as if things are picking up rather quickly, don't get your knickers in a twist. This is going to be a slow-burn, my lovelies ? Hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! And, as always, comments and faves and follows are very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4 - Thestrals

Chapter 4

Thestrals

Before Hermione had joined her friends for breakfast, she had gone straight to the Owlery to deliver her letter to Harry. On her way she continued to mull over the thoughts she had slipped off to sleep with the night before.

She still couldn't believe that she had come away from an after-hours encounter with Snape without having points deducted and or receiving a detention. What was more unbelievable still was that he had attempted to comfort her and that, amazingly, it had worked. She had been able to go to sleep for a good five restful hours. She assumed that he was simply trying to make up for some of his nastiness he had inflicted on her in past years, but another part of her wondered if he could, possibly, genuinely care about her and what she was going through. She knew that he was capable of feeling something akin to care and devotion, as he had been Lily Potter's best friend once and had loved her, but it was still unnerving to be on the receiving end, however briefly, of that side of him. She couldn't help but wonder—if he was capable of expressing concern, was he also capable of showing happiness, like smiles and laughter? The thought alone sent Hermione's head whirling.

She spent the rest of the day with Ginny, Neville and Luna. She was glad for the constant company. It kept her mind from wandering back to a certain Hogwart's professor. Still, she would occasionally lapse into silence, replaying moments from the night before in her head. His dark eyes, soft and gentle for once, instead of cold and unfeeling. His voice, the kindest she could ever remember hearing it, without a drip of sarcasm or disdain.

"Hey, head-in-the-clouds, what're you so focused on?" Ginny poked her friend in the side.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "Sorry, Ginny. I was just remembering...a dream I had last night." That was, at least, what it had felt like. "What were you saying?"

" _Luna_ , actually, was asking if you'd edit one of her Transfiguration papers for grammar errors," Ginny replied.

"Professor Jones isn't as strict as Professor McGonagall, but I think she underestimates my intelligence," Luna explained. "I'd rather like to continue the excellent work I gave last year, even if it's no longer under the scrutiny of Professor McGonagall."

Hermione smiled at Luna, who had Twinkle the kitten snuggled tightly in her button-up coat. "Sure, Luna. What's your essay topic?"

"Facial Transfiguration. I hope you think it's worthy of an O, or at least an E. I focus intently on facial hair and how the effects of the transfiguration could prove drastically different if the person being transfigured is under the influence of Wrackspurts or Nargle excrement."

Hermione suddenly became apprehensive about editing the essay. Trying to change the subject, she smiled and asked, "Have you introduced Twinkle to the Thestrals yet?"

Luna's eyes widened. "Ooooh, no! I haven't! Why don't we go do that now?"

"Um, oh, well…" Hermione spluttered.

"Luna, why don't we do it tomorrow? Don't we have to get fresh meat from the kitchens to bring the herd to the edge of the forest?" Ginny asked this as if she and Luna had already done it before. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if they had. Ginny had always been indulgent, and appreciative, of Luna's peculiar habits.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose it would be easier if we had some meat."

The rest of the day passed quickly. Hermione and her friends walked along the black lake while Luna and Ginny made plans for introducing Twinkle to the Thestrals. Neville joined in and tried to show interest even though he was slightly intimidated by the strange horse-like creatures and Hermione spoke up here and there, but took more time to admire the lake and the beauty of the castle and its grounds. She saw smoke coming from Hagrid's cabin and smiled to herself. Despite being Head of Gryffindor, Hagrid had insisted on staying in his cabin, complaining that the castle just never felt like home as his cabin did. Hermione supposed it was because his cabin was closer to the forest and, in turn, his giant half-brother and the many creatures he loved. Though it was uncustomary for a Head of House to be so far from their students at night, Professor Weasley had agreed to act in his stead during the evenings if trouble-making or emergencies arose.

"Say we should head up to dinner?" Neville asked as the sun drooped lower.

The girls agreed and together the four friends trudged back up to the castle. Hermione couldn't help but feel strange. Before it had been her and two boys. Now it was her, two girls and one boy. She still couldn't shake off the feeling that this last year just wasn't what she had hoped it would be so far. Not that she didn't care deeply for Ginny, Neville and Luna, but they didn't quite understand her like Ron and, especially Harry, had understood her. They tended to give her a harder time when she insisted on taking a good chunk of time to study in the library, whereas Harry and Ron would've just shrugged and gone with it or left her alone to go and play chess or Gobstones. But so far Ginny had been insisting on going with her every time, though begrudgingly, and so Neville and Luna trailed along, too. Unfortunately, it was harder for Hermione to study with her friends there, as Luna had the annoying habit of bringing up random facts she was reading about, usually having nothing to do with her homework and most times coming straight from the Quibbler. Neville and Ginny on the other hand just talked about Quidditch in hushed tones. Hermione didn't understand when they managed to get their homework done if, when they were actually in the library, they didn't spend time studying.

Besides that, Hermione felt like she couldn't talk to them about the war or what they had experienced because, well, their experiences were all so different. Hermione had been with Harry and Ron, while Ginny, Neville and Luna had been at the school together for the majority of the time. They had started a rebellion within the school while Hermione had been helping to hunt down Horcruxes. She had tried to get them to talk about what it had been like, but found that they didn't want to share, and she couldn't blame them, because when she tried explaining how it had been being on the run, they seemed to find it a lot less chaotic than it had been for them at the school. She had quickly realized not to bring up the subject as they found it difficult to relate with her and, likewise, she struggled to relate with them.

All of this caused the feeling of loneliness to fester in her gut like a never-ceasing stomach ache. She found herself hoping more and more that Snape had decided on when to start their lessons just so she had something else to focus on throughout the week.

For dinner, Hermione joined Neville and Ginny at the Gryffindor table while Luna went back to sit with the Ravenclaws. She couldn't help but look up to the staff table, searching for Snape's midnight robes and black hair. But she was surprised to see that he wasn't there. Was he ill? Merlin, she hoped not. That would set back their private lessons even more. And why would he be ill? He had been on some of St. Mungo's best healing potions and remedies ever since he was rushed there after the battle.

"Hermione, aren't you going to eat?" Ginny asked.

Hermione hadn't even noticed that the house elves had already sent the food to their table. She had been so focused on Snape's absence that she hadn't even smelled the delicious aroma of food. "Oh, yeah, sorry," she mumbled, reaching for some pumpkin juice.

"Were you remembering that _dream_ again?" Ginny asked, a knowing look in her eyes. Had she realized that her friend had not been entirely honest with her earlier that day?

"Um, no… actually, I was wondering why Professor Snape wasn't at the staff table. His seat is empty."

Ginny shrugged, glancing quickly at the head table and then back to Hermione. "Why does it matter? He's probably just shut up in his dungeons. Not many of the students particularly care to see him, anyway."

Hermione frowned. "Well that's ridiculous. He's a hero, just like us."

Ginny scoffed quietly. "He is definitely _not_ like us. Just because he's a hero doesn't cancel out everything he's done. Not only is he a vindictive bully, but he cut off George's ear, watched Professor Burbadge die right in front of him, let the Carrows work at the school. Not to mention all of the other—"

Hermione was gaping. "Ginny, are you serious right now?" she cut off her friend before she coul continue. "You know, _everyone_ knows, that he _had_ to do those things. He had to treat Harry horribly, he had to fight alongside the Death Eaters, he had to watch many people be tortured and die. If he hadn't, he would've given himself away."

"That doesn't mean he had to be a complete arse to you, Ron, Harry and Neville ever since your first year. He is a bully, Hermione, you know it as well as I do, no matter how much it seems like he's changed this year. His past isn't erased just because he was a spy, or because he is saying please now in class. If you ask me, he purposefully exaggerated his role because he's sadistic." The red-headed girl took a bite out of a chicken wing, as if the conversation didn't bother her in the least and she was simply stating the facts.

Hermione, however, was fuming. "I can't believe you!"

Ginny's eyes widened and she turned to see an angry Hermione stand up from the table and storm down the aisle. She reached the doors to the Great Hall and flew through them without looking back, not caring how many students had been gawking at her.

Once out of the doors she turned immediately to her left and collided, head on, with a lean, muscular body. "Oh, bloody— I'm so sor—" but she stopped mid-apology when she found herself staring up into Blaise Zabini's swirls of hazel green.

"Hermione," he said, calmly.

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she stuttered.

"Quite alright. It's my own fault for running late to dinner. Although, I didn't realize I was so late as to running into someone already having finished her dinner." He was surveying her intently, eyes traveling over her face with a quiet hunger. It caused her heart to suddenly tap dance in her chest.

"I didn't finish," she explained, rather lamely.

His eyebrow raised. "Oh? Then, am I to assume I interrupted you from needing to use the loo?" His lip curled at the corners.

She felt herself blush. "Ah, no. I just…wasn't hungry." The anger she had felt towards Ginny felt as if it had all but dissipated.

"Why don't you join me for dessert, then? I don't particularly enjoy the chicken and steak dinner they are serving tonight, but I do enjoy some treacle tart and pudding."

"I— wha-what?"

He chuckled, white teeth glistening. His sharp features were so handsome that Hermione felt as if her eyes were being assaulted. "It's not uncommon. A few of the Slytherins have begun eating at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables now, hadn't you noticed?"

"N-no, actually. Why have they done that?"

"Oh, well, Professor Snape has been encouraging us in his classes to make more friends with the students from other houses. He understands the stereotypes and distasteful murmurs and whispers that the members of Slytherin have been subjected to in the past and, since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been defeated and most of his followers are being culled as we speak, Professor Snape insists that we, the Slytherins, attempt to make a new name for ourselves. A more pleasant name, to be specific."

"He—he has?" This was all so overwhelming for the witch. Snape, a Slytherin to the core, encouraging his students to be… friendlier? What was the world coming to? "And—and Miner-, I mean, the headmistress is alright with that?"

"Alright with it?" Blaise chuckled again. "I believe she was the one who suggested it."

 _Well, that makes more sense_ , Hermione thought to herself.

"It might cause a stir in the Gryffindors to see one of their fellows trying to play nice with the Slytherins for a change," he continued. He waggled his eyebrows at her in a playful challenge.

She was stunned. Never in her life had Zabini even looked her way let alone _waggled his eyebrows_ at her. Had the wizarding world gone completely topsy-turvy? "I'm pretty sure I'd get at least a dozen dirty looks from the Slytherins if I actually took you seriously and joined you. If not dirty looks, then definitely sniggers and sneers."

Blaise shrugged. "Suit yourself. But next time you're in the Great Hall, try paying more attention to the other students instead of just your Weasley friend. You might be surprised at what you see." With that, Blaise walked past her, his robes brushing against her in the process.

In a daze, Hermione walked up to her room. Snape comforting her; Snape encouraging his Slytherins to be nicer; Blaise asking her to join him for dessert? What was this new world she was living in, and what other surprises awaited her?

.Beat.

Severus hadn't bothered to go to the Great Hall for dinner. He was in the middle of a complicated potion and by the time he had finished, it was well past dinner. He would just have food delivered to his room if he grew hungry.

After he had cleaned up his workspace and showered, the professor took to his armchair by the fire and summoned a bottle of elderflower wine, one of the only alcoholic beverages he enjoyed drinking as it didn't cause him to feel intoxicated nor give him a headache. He took a small sip and stared into the flames. He didn't want to admit to himself that one of the reasons he didn't go to dinner was also because he didn't want to have to see a certain Gryffindor. It had been hard enough at breakfast. He was constantly feeling the pull of her gaze and he had to use every ounce of refrain he could muster to not glance in the witch's direction. He also didn't want to admit that he had started working on a complex potion with the intent of keeping her off his mind, as she had plagued it all the night previous. But now, as he had nothing to do for the rest of the night, he found his mind beginning to whirl and twirl with thoughts of her as the fire danced before him.

Why was he suddenly so concerned for the witch's feelings? After Lily he swore he wouldn't let himself ever become that close to someone—never let himself _feel_ deeply for another person. Because, he reasoned, what was the purpose? Anyone he would be able to even remotely relate with would most likely choose to relate with a Basilisk over him. And, Merlin forbid, he did find someone he could relate with _and_ found interesting, he didn't want to face rejection, nor the thought of possibly losing them. Losing Lily as a friend had tattered his heart. Losing her to death had shattered it completely. He never wished to feel that kind of pain again.

So why was he now unable to stop thinking about Granger? Not only was it shameful enough because she was his student and had been for many years, but it was ridiculous as he had always been annoyed by her… Well, not always. Mostly when she was younger. But still. She was part of the 'golden trio' even if the two boys were no longer at the school. She was still Hermione Granger, the girl who helped the Boy Who Lived defeat the Dark Lord.

And help defeat Voldemort she had, there was no doubt. And even when he had been vanquished, she didn't stop there. She went to the aid of the hurt; went to retrieve those who had fallen. That was how she had been one of those to find him. He remembered it as if it had only happened yesterday.

After having taken the potion that would keep Nagini's venom from spreading and reaching his heart, he was able to slowly, excruciatingly, head back to the castle from the Shrieking Shack by use of the tunnel leading to the Whomping Willow. By the time he had reached and clambered out of the gigantic tree, he could see Death Eaters fleeing from the castle. By the time he made it to Hagrid's hut, he knew Voldemort had been defeated. He could hear the commotion from the castle and see the red, purple, blue and gold sparks from wands going off in celebration. But it didn't last long. Soon after, as he was crawling on hands and knees up the path that lead to the castle's courtyard, he heard footsteps approaching.

Hermione, Minerva and Pomona were coming down the path. He knew Hermione was the first to see him because she was ahead of the two older witches. Her eyes found his and she halted, sucking in a sharp breath of air. For a split second the horror that had overtaken her features made him fear she was about to faint. But she had proved him wrong. Before he could even utter a single syllable, the witch was running to his side and yelling for Minerva and Pomona.

"Professor Snape," she gasped, clutching his arm and helping him to sit upright. "Why didn't you send up sparks for help? We could have reached you so much sooner."

"I am wandless," he gurgled. He saw Hermione's face become ashen. He brought a finger to his lip and saw that he was spitting up blood.

"Quick, help me get him to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said to Minerva and Pomona who had just reached them.

"Hermione," he gurgled again, reaching for her. "You need to tell Poppy what I've taken."

"I don't—I don't understand, Professor." Her voice was breaking. In fear? In sadness? He couldn't tell. But he was still dying, just slowly… so, so slowly.

"The last potion… we…" And the last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him was Hermione Granger's large, brown eyes close to his face and her lips saying soundlessly _Professor, professor, professor_...

Then, he was gone.

.Beat.

The next morning Hermione was awakened by a sudden knocking on her room's door. For a split second her heart leaped into her throat at the thought of it being Blaise. Then she heard a familiar voice call, "C'mon Hermione! You get to name a Thestral today!"

It was Ginny. Hermione looked at her watch and groaned. It was seven in the morning and she hadn't been able to fall asleep the previous night until about two o'clock. But, not wanting to disappoint her friends, she rolled out of bed and grabbed a hair-tie off her night stand.

The knocking came again, louder this time. "Hermione? You awake?"

 _Merlin that girl is a hurricane even at this hour._

Hermione stuck the hair tie in her mouth, opened the door with the hand that wasn't attempting to tame her hair, and said through clenched teeth, "Since I'm not yet dressed you may as well come in."

Ginny and Luna stepped into her private room and looked around, gazing with curiosity at the older girl's living quarters. Hermione finished fighting with her hair, only barely subduing it, and surveyed her room, trying to see it from Ginny and Luna's perspectives. A queen-sized bed, large enough for two people, a writing desk near the window, a decent-sized bookshelf, one three-drawer dresser, a small closet and a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and standing only shower.

"This is lovely," Luna complimented, delicately trailing her hands over Hermione's brazen red and gold bed covers. Not her choice, of course. Neville, being a Gryffindor, probably had the same ones. She just then noticed that Luna had her royal blue and bronze book bag slung over her shoulder. As Ginny didn't have a bag with her, Hermione deduced that Luna's bag was carrying meat from the kitchen.

"You have to admit, Hermione, a room to yourself is pretty cool." Ginny spoke as if Hermione hadn't stormed out on her during dinner the previous night, but she was looking at the girl with caution.

"Yeah and being woken up early in the morning on a Sunday is just as enjoyable." The sarcasm in the older Gryffindor's tone was obvious.

"That was my idea," Luna piped up. "Thestrals are most active at night and in the morning. At first, I suggested that we go just after five, but Ginny reminded me that we aren't allowed out of our dorms until sun-up."

"And thank Merlin for that," Ginny mumbled.

Hermione rummaged through her doors for some undergarments and then for a pair of jeans. She proceeded to hunt down a blouse and a sweater. Pulling on her trainers, she was ready to go within a few minutes.

When she stepped out of her door she saw that Neville was waiting for them in the hallway. Luna skipped over to him and grabbed his hand. Hermione and Ginny smiled at each other, Ginny kind of warily, but seeing Luna and Neville together made both the girls happy.

As they fell into step beside Neville and Luna, who were whispering together, Ginny looked over at Hermione and asked, "Are we okay? After dinner last night?"

Hermione gave her friend a small smile. "We're fine. We just have different opinions about Professor Snape, that's all."

"Ginny and Luna both tell me that he's become less stern," Neville said. He was looking at Hermione with skepticism written all over his no-longer pudgy face.

"Well, he has, a bit, or at least for the two lessons I had with him. He doesn't seem as grumpy, or as nasty, and he's even taken away some points from misbehaving Slytherins," Hermione replied.

"Still has yet to award Gryffindors any points, though," Ginny mumbled.

"He awarded two Ravenclaws some points," Luna spoke up. "He usually only did that once or twice a month in my fifth year when I had him for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Wanting to change the subject, she turned to Luna and asked, "How do you like Mrs. Wea—I mean, Professor Weasley, teaching the Defence class?"

"Oh, she's great. I can tell she's still getting used to teaching, though. She keeps trying to look at all of us at the same time when she's lecturing, and during her practical examples she tends to get a little nervous I think. But she really is much more pleasant than Professor Snape was. He always kept his classroom too dark, in my opinion. Practicing defensive magic is much more effective in a room with normal lighting, where you can actually see as you would normally. I can understand why it would need to be dark in a potions classroom, but I think Professor Snape might have something wrong with his eyes."

Hermione heard Ginny snort and both she and Neville also couldn't help smiling. Always leave it to Luna to say something funny without even trying.

"Or he's just too much like a bat," Ginny added. "Have you ever noticed when he walks quickly his black robes billow out behind him like he's got—"

"Okay, okay, enough bad-mouthing Professor Snape," Hermione interrupted, not wanting to get worked up again defending him. "Let's just give him a chance, huh? A lot of us have changed since the war," she glanced at Neville, who flushed, "so maybe he has, too."

As she said this, though, she couldn't help but wonder just how much a person could really change—and how much change the mysterious Professor had truly succumbed to.

.Beat.

Had Granger known he was there, just behind the tapestry? She must have, if she had willingly defended him to her friends like that. But no. How could she know? He had been sure to cast a disillusionment charm and stand well hidden behind the tapestry of Morgan Le Fay.

If she hadn't known, then the only other explanation was that she had truly meant what she had said. Did she really think he had changed? Had he changed? Did he want her to think that? _Damnit all_ , he cursed to himself. Why did he even care what the girl thought?

Waiting until he knew they were well out of sight and earshot, he strode out from behind the tapestry and sulked off to the kitchen, feeling hungrier than normal since he hadn't eaten dinner the night before. He had only been following Ginny and Luna since he thought it abnormal for the two seventh-years to be out so early on a Sunday morning. But, while wanting to catch them doing something against school rules, he had been sadly mistaken. They had just been going up to visit their friends on the seventh floor. Since the Great Hall wasn't open, and he didn't want to go back to his room, he knew he'd only get food if he went directly to its source. And, not wanting to have to endure Granger during normal breakfast hours, eating food from the kitchen and retiring back to his private potion lab suited him just fine.

He tickled the pear that opened the door leading into the kitchens. The house elves in the kitchen looked up, startled.

"Who's there?" squeaked the nearest one to the door.

 _Curse that Granger_ , he spat to himself.

He had forgotten to remove his disillusionment charm.

.Beat.

Hermione wrapped her sweater tighter as she and Neville stood a few steps back from Luna and Ginny, who were feeding two Thestrals. Hermione had heard Hagrid talk about them in their fifth-year class, and she had, rather unwillingly, rode on the back of one that same year, but it wasn't until she had stepped off the Hogwarts Express this year that she was able to see them. And she couldn't believe she had actually been riding one.

They looked gruesome, in her opinion. Scaly, almost oily-looking, their skin so thin that every bone showed, not a single hair on their bodies, and bright white orbs for eyes. They seemed to be a creature straight out of a nightmare and she wasn't surprised in the least that Neville did not like them. She also understood how they were mistaken as death omens and unlucky creatures.

But Luna really seemed to understand them. She was probably one of the few students attending Hogwarts who could say she had been able to see them since she first arrived at the school. _How lonely that would've been,_ thought Hermione, _to be surrounded by these gnarled creatures and having everyone around you unable to see them as you did._ Her heart reached out to Luna then as she watched the golden-haired girl pat one of the Thestrals on its nose. It closed its eyes in response to her touch, as if at peace.

Soon enough more Thestrals joined the first two. Within ten minutes there was a total of seven Thestrals, all begging for a scrap of meet from Luna and Ginny's outstretched hands.

"These two are Capricus an Millie," Luna explained, petting the two Thestrals who had first approached them.

"The smaller one behind them is their youngest, and I've named her Rowena. Their oldest, off to the right there, is Troy. I haven't yet named the other three yet, so I thought it'd be nice if each of you chose a name for them," Luna explained.

"How do you tell if they are male or female?" Neville asked.

Ginny and Luna both bent down low, swiveling their heads to look at the underbellies of the three Thestrals. Hermione stifled a laugh as Neville's cheeks turned bright red. "Two girls and a boy," Luna announced.

"That's fitting," Ginny added with a smile.

"Go on, Hermione, which one do you want to name?" Luna asked, pleasantly.

"Oh, well, I suppose I'll name one of the girls." She eyed both of the unnamed female Thestrals carefully and decided on the smaller of the two. "I have no idea what to name her, though. Will she even understand that I'm naming her?"

"She will eventually," Luna assured her. "With some time and repetition. They are very intelligent, especially at navigating, as you probably remember."

Hermione thought hard about a name. Before she came up with one, though, Ginny spoke up. "I'm going to name this one Winifred," she proclaimed, stepping up and letting newly-christened Winifred sniff and lick her fingers.

"Winnie, for short?" Neville asked.

"No," Ginny and Hermione both answered at the same time. The girls shared a knowing look.

"Just Winifred," Ginny said.

"Alright, well, um…" clearly Neville felt as indecisive as Hermione on choosing a name. "Well, I think I'll name mine—er, him—August, after my grandma."

Hermione was noticing a trend in the choices of names, but she couldn't think of anyone she knew to name the female Thestral after. Giving a creature that looked, well, so ghoulish, a name of someone she loved just didn't seem…fitting. But then, a name came to her unexpectedly as she stared at the creature's glistening black skin and rippling black wings.

"Ombra," Hermione said, firmly. "Her name is Ombra."

Luna smiled around at them all and then they turned back to look at the Thestrals—creatures that none of them would have ever seen if they hadn't seen death.

Monday morning came quickly and with it came Hermione's classes. She was hopeful that she may finally be able to start her private lessons with Snape now that he had had more than enough time to figure out when he could fit her into his weekly schedule. She went through Transfiguration with ease and enjoyed giggling with Ginny in Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite many glares from Ginny's mother, and soon she found herself walking into the potions classroom arm in arm with the youngest Weasley.

Hermione immediately tried to catch Professor Snape's gaze, but his head was bent over his desk, his quill scratching on parchment as if he were trying to rip it to shreds. She suddenly felt nervous. The night he found her playing the piano felt as if it had just happened and she couldn't help but turn slightly red as she remembered how he had gazed at her with concern.

"The instructions for today's potion can be found on the board. Please begin," Snape snapped, pointing his wand to the blackboard. He still hadn't looked up from his desk. Only he could make the word 'please' sound like the blade of a knife being unsheathed threateningly.

Ginny gave Hermione a smirk as she whispered, "What were you saying about him having _changed_?"

"Miss Granger," came Snape's voice, full of contempt. "Reading instructions, collecting ingredients and brewing a potion does not require _chatter_."

"I—" began Hermione, feebly.

"Just because you were part of the 'golden trio' who helped to save the wizarding world does not mean that I will be treating you any differently than any other student in this class. Five points from Gryffindor for unnecessary prattling."

Hermione's jaw fell open. The potions professor continued to glare at her. Drawing on a confidence she wasn't aware she had, she shot back, "Unfortunately, _Sir_ , whether you expect it or not, I will be treating _you_ differently. I do not, and cannot, look at you the same way I used to since the Battle of Hogwarts." She could feel every eye in the classroom trained on Snape, waiting for his punishment to hail down on her.

He surveyed her calmly, his eyes an endless tunnel. In a soft, cool voice he replied, "Be that as it may, Miss Granger. You will see no change in treatment from me."

"I never asked to." She knew she was pushing it, but in that moment she didn't care. Was he treating her this way because of the incident in the music room? Why would he do that? _Because he's a prat_ , she told herself, angrily. Before he could take away anymore House points, Hermione stood up abruptly and walked into the store room to get her potion ingredients. When she emerged from the room minutes later, Snape had gone back to his furious scribbling and her classmates were deathly silent. When she seated herself back to next to Ginny, however, the red-head gave her a silent high-five.

At the end of class, Hermione stayed behind again to speak with her professor. Despite their heated exchange, she was determined to begin their private lessons. Oddly enough, in that moment, she felt even more resolute in her decision to continue private lessons with him. Unlike the week before, he glared at her as she approached his desk. "Are we able to begin our private potion lessons this week, Sir?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady under his penetrating gaze.

"I have not yet found a time for us to meet," he replied, coldly.

Hermione turned to leave. She took three steps and then spun around, some of her hair flying out of her plat. "Have I done something wrong, Professor?"

"Other than speaking out of turn in my class?"

"Ginny was the one speaking, not me. But even if it had been me, we could have been discussing relevant information about the class, for all you knew. And I was told that students are permitted to help one another in class, which generally requires a verbal exchange."

"Are you implying that your conversation was about today's potion?" he sneered.

"No, it wasn't, but there is no way you could have known that at the time. Your accusation was uncalled for and seemed done out of spite, yet I don't recall offending you in any way," Hermione snapped back.

"Your mere presence offends me, Granger," he hissed.

His harsh words felt like a slap. She could feel tears welling up behind her eyes, but she would not let herself cry in front of this man. Not again. And certainly not now. Instead, she bawled her fists and spat out, "That's rich. You didn't seem to take much offence to my presence on Friday night, or the morning the Battle ended and I was helping drag you up to Madam Pomfrey."

Snape rose suddenly, his menacing form making her want to shrink back. She allowed herself to take one small step towards the door, but found enough courage to stand her ground.

"I didn't ask to be saved," he seethed at her.

"No, you didn't. But I chose to."

"Well, you shouldn't have."

"Well, I did."

"And I wish you hadn't."

His words sucked all breath from her lungs. Giving him the most disgusted, repulsed look she could manage, she turned and walked quickly out the door, using her wand to slam it behind her with a riotous _BANG!_

A/N: Whew! That was a rather long chapter, hopefully not too long. I hope you guys are enjoying the building tension between our two beloved characters. Thank you again for joining me on this Sevmione journey and, as always, follows, faves and reviews are very much appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5 - Dietro L'incanto

Chapter 5

Dietro L'incanto

(Behind the Magic)

What was he supposed to say? _Thank you for saving my life, but you're driving me insane and I don't know why, so I'd rather be dead?_ Not bloody likely. He had been dreading seeing her again and when he had it was as if something inside him snapped. The hurt his words had caused, while a few years ago may have satisfied, did nothing now but leave him with a feeling of exhaustion.

He knew he would, eventually, have to present her with a date to begin their private lessons, knowing full well that Minerva would be checking in with him soon, and that Granger could also approach the headmistress first and complain about his refusal as she had done in her sixth year, the insufferable little— He stopped himself and let a long sigh escape out his nose. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that she wasn't _purposefully_ trying to frustrate or irritate him. She just wanted to learn from him. But that alone drove him up the wall! Why _him_? In all his teaching career no student had ever willingly wanted to take extra lessons with him. Not even his own Slytherins. So why did she, especially now that Voldemort had been defeated?

Placing his head in his hands he allowed himself to slouch over, letting go of his usual poise to just…sink. What did it matter, in the end? It was her last year, she'd be off his back before he knew it, and he could be done with her. He just had to get through one more year. That wouldn't be too hard. He had faced much, much worse than a highly motivated and determined seventh-year student.

And yet… no student had ever caused this kind of turmoil in him before.

Maybe, now, after his hurtful words, she would no longer want to have private lessons. This thought caused him to feel both relieved and annoyingly despondent at the same time.

.Beat.

Hermione skipped dinner and went straight to her room. She did not want to have to be anywhere near that dreadful, disdainful, deplorable man. Muttering her password and then slamming her door, she picked up the nearest pillow and flung it at her wall. There was a loud screech that made her nearly jump out of her skin.

She had thrown the pillow without noticing that a small owl had been perched on the inside of her window ceil. It was the same tawny owl that she had sent to deliver her letter to Harry. She had been leaving her window open daily to let in fresh air, no matter how chilly it became. She could stand the cold. She could not stand feeling suffocated. She apologized softly to the owl, realizing her tantrum must've frightened it. Rewarding the owl with one of the treats she kept in her dresser, she took the letter from its leg and proceeded to unfold it. Her tantrum could wait.

 _Hermione,_

 _Work is going well. Very busy. I'm glad to hear that you and Ginny, Neville and Luna are spending time together. I thought not being at Hogwarts would feel strange, but I've been so busy I've hardly thought about it. And maybe it's also because we didn't go to school last year._

 _I don't have time to write much, but I wanted to let you know that I plan on coming to your first Hogsmeade weekend. It's the first weekend in October, unless McGonagall changes it. Don't tell Ginny, I want it to be a surprise. I've lead her to believe I'm so busy I won't be able to visit. I look forward to her shock when she sees me. Hopefully she doesn't hit me. She probably will. Still, don't tell her, please._

 _Snape? Different? I guess I'd have to see it to believe it, but maybe you're right, maybe me not being there, the end of the war, and him nearly dying, altered something in him. Then again, maybe his change in attitude is just smugness that he finally has an Order of Merlin First Class. Whatever the reason, it sounds like he isn't giving you a hard time like he used to, so that's good to hear._

 _I'll see you soon!_

 _With love,_

 _Harry_

Hermione smoothed out the letter, sighed, then shoved it roughly aside. Not only had Harry's last paragraph raised her anger about Snape again, but his reply was not satisfying _at all_. Still, the fact that he was planning to visit Hogsmeade was something. And, yes, Ginny probably would hit him, but then she'd kiss him and it would all be fine. And it would be nice to see him. She could also be sure to tell him to write longer letters. She needed to hear about his life. She missed him…

And Snape. _Ugh!_ She thought that their time in the piano room had begun a friendlier relationship between them, like the relationship she had with Minerva, or Molly. Well, not that friendly, as Snape wasn't friendly like the two women were, but still… a more tolerable relationship, at least. He had let her open up to him, and he had comforted her, like a friend would. However, now that she had calmed down, she felt more annoyed than hurt. She should've known that he wasn't a coin that could just flip into a new person.

Hermione sat at her desk and took out her Transfiguration homework. She would study until she felt too tired to continue, then go to bed. She had a few snacks hidden in her room if she got hungry. Mostly sweets, treacle tart and chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties, but she also had some croissants and apples. She would eat some of those if she needed sustenance.

However, midnight came and passed, all her homework was complete, and she still wasn't tired. Sighing irritably, she grabbed her wand, slid on her slippers, and quietly exited her room as she had done Friday night. While this time it was well past midnight, she found that if she did get caught, she wouldn't care. Detention with Filch? Fine. Deduction of points? She'd make them up tomorrow. But her fingers were itching to play the piano again, and she had the perfect song in mind.

She reached the music room without any trouble. Peeves had passed her, but when she put her fingers to her lips and winked at him, he had giggled and zoomed away. The witch had realized that, since the battle, Peeves had developed quite a liking for her that resembled a school boy's crush. It was rather cute, she mused, and quite useful. Other than Peeves, though, the way to the piano was calm and quiet.

Using her wand light and conjured fire as she had done last time, Hermione began playing. The song began ominously, and deep, then became quiet and peaceful, leading into pleasant, higher notes and trills. With dark undertones and light overtones, she found the song both peaceful and melancholy at the same time. She dove into the deeply haunting melody again, leading back into the quiet and peaceful notes. It was a song that described her life, and more. She began playing quieter—slower—until the song ended on a peaceful undertone. She dropped her hands and let out a long sigh, feeling content.

"Back again, Miss Granger?"

She wasn't surprised to hear his deep baritone voice come from behind her. It was almost as if a part of her had hoped he would find her. She felt her heart begin to pound and the hair on her arms rise. Would he punish her this time? It was so late. Part of her felt like getting up and slapping him right across his pale face. The other part of her wanted to become invisible, wishing she had Harry's cloak with her. She compromised for putting her hands back onto the piano and beginning to play another song. She would ignore him instead.

Hermione began to play in earnest. Now knowing that he was watching her, she performed a song with heavier notes, but still slow, and she moved her body with every note she played. She wasn't showing off. She was being expressive, and in doing so she hoped to make him uncomfortable. At almost three minutes into the song she sped up, her movements becoming more drastic, when she suddenly felt a hand press down firmly on her shoulder. She stopped playing abruptly, having felt a hot tremor travel down her arm at his touch. She was breathing heavily, her chest and shoulders heaving. With a glare of pure defiance, she turned to look up at the man who had rudely interrupted her.

She was alarmed to see a haunted expression on his face; not one of spite or fury or even annoyance, but of distress. His eyes were dark and hard, but not in their usual way. He seemed to be in pain. She was jolted back into the memory of the morning she had found him, struggling to reach the castle—struggling to survive.

"Professor?"

"Why is it that your music is so sad…" he began, in a soft whisper, "but also so beautiful?"

She chose her words carefully. "Do you really want to know?"

"I would not have asked if—" but he cut himself short. "I need to know," he breathed.

"Because I am sad. I am angry. I am hurt. But the music allows me to express myself in a way I'm not afraid to…in a way that allows me to _feel_ without completely breaking down. It allows me to express my pain in a therapeutic way. So, it is also beautiful. The releasing of pain is a beautiful feeling." She noticed that his hand was still on her shoulder. He also appeared to be slouching, as if weights were on his shoulders; as if he was about to collapse. Grabbing hold of her wand she non-verbally cast a spell that caused the piano bench to lengthen. "Please, Sir, sit down."

His eyes flickered to the bench, but when he didn't respond or move, she grabbed his warm hand, feeling her face flush in the process, and guided him onto the bench. He sat, his eyes glazed over, as if he was trapped in another world. She had no idea what to do. Never in her life had she imagined she would see him so…lost.

But he had said the music was beautiful.

She placed her fingers back to the keys and played a third song. This one was the widely-known Claire de Lune by Debussy. It was a lighter, more pleasant, almost romantic piece. Claire de Lune meant moonlight, and the song celebrated and expressed the moon in all her wonder and beauty. It was by no means an easy piece to play, but the young and talented witch felt an obligation to pull the dark wizard back to the present—back to this place, with her—and hoped the music would bring him back.

When the song ended she turned to her professor. She was relieved to see that light had returned to his eyes and he seemed to have regained some of his composure. He cleared his throat and muttered, "I recognized that tune."

Hermione couldn't help but give him a small smile. "Yes, it is fairly well-known, having been around since the early nineteen-hundreds."

He nodded.

"Are you alright, Sir?"

"I'm fine," he replied, tonelessly. A few moments of awkward silence passed between them. Just when Hermione was about to say that she should probably go, Snape said, "Maybe I did not fully understand your struggles the last time we—you—expressed them to me." He paused, and when she didn't reply he continued, "It seems that my advice did not make a difference…"

.Beat.

At first, he thought the pianist wouldn't answer him. He knew he didn't deserve an explanation. If anything, he deserved for her to storm out of the music room right then and there without a glance back. And just when he was about to retract his question, it seemed she had decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Your advice did help, but…what I'm experiencing… It's just SO HARD. All the time. Harry has Ginny, Ron has Lavender, and even Neville has someone, albeit Luna. I feel alone every minute of every day. All of the fucking time."

He flinched, taken aback at her choice of swear word.

But she plunged on. "Even when I'm with people, I feel alone. And over the summer it was nearly unbearable. I was staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry, but he was gone most of the time, and was so exhausted when he came home that we never really sat down and talked. Ron never came to visit, Ginny stayed at her house so half of the time Harry was over there with her, but I didn't feel comfortable being there because…well, that doesn't matter…what I'm trying to say is… I didn't really get to spend quality time with anyone. And no matter how busy I kept myself, I couldn't stop thinking about… I mean. Fuck. Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Fred, Tonks, Remus... and I had really liked Remus. I mean—really, _really_ —liked him."

Severus turned to stare at her, incredulously, and saw that, sure enough, she was blushing furiously, but there was also the sparkle of oncoming tears in her eyes. He ignored the fact that she had just implied she had harbored a crush on Lupin, of all people, and instead focused on her pink lips as she continued…

"And all of that time with Harry over the summer I had wanted to _talk_ to him. I wanted us to share our nightmares, both waking and sleeping nightmares—because I know we were both having them—and I wanted to talk about what had happened, to try and sort it all out, make some sense of it, share our grief and fears together, but he just… moved on. And I admire him and envy him and love him and hate him for that. Because I needed more and knew I couldn't ask that of him. How could I expect that of someone who had died, come back to life, only to almost die again? Who sacrificed his _life_ for all of us? So I went on, suffering by myself. I played the piano, I wrote letters to no one, I cried alone at night in my bed, or the bathroom, and it hasn't stopped. Even being here, with some of my friends, and a solid routine I can depend on… the nightmares and the loneliness and the darkness threatens to eat away at me."

She paused, and Severus just stared at her, though she wouldn't meet his eyes, and he was at a complete loss as to what to say. He just looked at the young girl, the smartest witch of her age, with angry and sorrowful tear streaks down her cheeks and her frizzy hair sticking out as if able to produce electricity itself.

"And then today…what you said… I _hated_ you for it."

He gave a small cringe but allowed her to continue.

"Because you, like everyone else, just can't seem to understand it. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, _you_ of all people would understand. Understand that I just... I couldn't let anyone else die." And she brought her eyes up to meet his and he saw a spark of fire alight in them. "So yes, I ran to you. I ran to you and helped you and will never regret it. Ever. No matter how angry you are, no matter how many times you belittle me in front of everyone, no matter how much you resent me for ensuring you had a life in the wizarding world. I will NEVER regret what I did."

Severus felt his eyes lock onto hers as he said softly, "I...do not resent you, Hermione."

He wasn't sure if it was the use of her first name that caused her to become incapable of speech, or that he had practically admitted something he swore he would never admit to her, but the young witch seemed to be only capable of staring at him with her lips slightly parted. For the briefest of moments, he had the urge to trace his finger along her lower lip. Pushing the feeling away, he cleared his throat and asked, "Shall I walk you back to your room now?"

Mutely, she nodded in agreement. Putting out her flame, she stood up and he with her, and he watched as she righted the piano bench back to its original length. He led the way back into the corridor and motioned for her to take the lead to her room.

A few minutes passed and then Severus asked, "What was that second piece that sounded so sad?"

"It's called Sur le fil, by Yann Tiersen. It means 'on the string' in French. I don't know if it was intended to feel so…desperate…but that's just what happens when I play it."

"And the first song?" he asked quietly when they reached her private room.

"Dietro L'incanto by the same composure as Ombre," she replied.

"Ah, another of the Italian's pieces. And what does Dietro L'incanto translate into?"

She whispered her room's password and he heard the click of the lock release. Turning to him she answered, "It means 'Behind the magic'." With a small smile, she began to close the door, holding his gaze until her eyes disappeared.

Severus stood looking at her door for a few moments. Then he turned and silently walked to his own room, finding himself hoping along the way that the pianist was able to get some good sleep.

When he reached his bed, he crawled under the blankets and let out a long, loud sigh. He thought of what Granger had said, how she had felt alone over the summer, how she continued to feel alone, and how she was still plagued by fear and sadness and maybe…something that she still wasn't admitting to him. In his mind's eye he saw her in her bathrobe, sobbing into her pillow. He saw her sitting on the floor of her bathroom with wet hair, wrapped in a bath towel, crying and screaming and striking her hands into the tile floor. He felt a sharp pain in his gut and tore himself away from the image.

Were those real? Had he performed Legilimency on the girl without having realized? He couldn't seem to decipher if what he had seen was a true memory, or something he had conjured himself. But whatever it had been, it made him feel helpless and concerned for the young witch. He had been through those moments himself, always alone, the way he knew it had to be, but for her…he found himself wishing she never had to endure such torment. She should not have to be alone.

Sighing, he stared around his dark room and forced his churning stomach to calm. Not only was he thinking of her differently, but he was doing exactly what he had told her earlier he _wouldn't_ do.

He was starting to treat her differently.

 _Fuck, indeed_. He groaned, rolled over, and fell into a dream of sad piano music.

A/N: Sorry, shorter chapter, but still of great significance for the direction of the story. Hopefully Hermione's feelings of turmoil didn't depress anyone, but she is having to deal with a lot, as Sev is beginning to realize. Hopefully you found this chapter as enjoyable as the others! Also, every piano song Hermione plays can be found on youtube, in case you're feeling curious. As always, follows, faves and reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6 - Scontrarsi (Crash)

Chapter 6

Scontrarsi

(Crash)

Things began to change for Hermione through the rest of the week. She didn't visit the music room again, having been able to feel tired enough to go to bed at a decent hour and she correlated this with playing music and sharing her feelings with Professor Snape. It seemed as if her potion's master had been affected by their talk as he had begun to treat Hermione differently. That is, in subtle ways, like bestowing less sneers and smirks, not calling her out during class—but answering her questions—awarding her points, and even giving her cordial nods when she entered his classroom, which he never seemed to do with any other student.

At the end of their lesson on Thursday, he asked her to stay behind. Ginny's eyebrow hitched up and Hermione whispered, "I hope this means that he's found a day we can meet for my extra potion lessons."

"I still can't believe you're taking extra lessons with him. I mean, I know you explained that you were secretly taking them from him during your sixth year, but…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's worth it," she whispered. "Go on, I'll catch you at dinner."

She watched Ginny leave and then approached her professor's desk with a small smile. He remained expressionless, but she thought she could see a shine to his dark eyes. She admitted to herself she could be imagining it. "Sir?"

"Miss Granger, if you have no objection, I would like to conduct our private lessons every other Friday. If you would be agreeable to it, we could begin tomorrow." He was completely business-like. It was as if their second encounter in the piano room hadn't even happened. But, she wasn't surprised. It was extremely Snape-like to not address such a strange situation in words, expression, or attitude, even in private. Still, she couldn't help but grin elatedly.

"Oh, yes! What time?" She realized she was coming off a little too enthused and worried she would put him off.

For a moment she was sure he was about to roll his eyes at her over-the-top response. Instead, he glanced down at the parchment on his desk. She realized it was the class schedule she had duplicated for him. "According to your schedule you have an empty period after your Advanced Arithmancy class. As I also have a free period during that time, it would be preferable to meet then."

"Alright. Great," she said immediately. Not wanting to annoy him, she dropped her tone so that it didn't ring of happiness. "I'll come meet you here at 2 o'clock tomorrow then?"

"Correct." His words were so sharp and crisp, but she noticed that, compared with other times, he held her gaze steadily.

There was a moment of silence strung between them as she found herself realizing that, in the past when she had met his gaze, his eyes had seemed daunting, forever calculating and intimidating. They still did come off that way, sometimes, but right now…they looked calm. Like the black lake during a windless summer day. "Thank you, Professor," she said, remembering herself and breaking the silence.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Granger," he said, dismissing her with a small nod.

Turning around and heading towards the door, Hermione's smile became wider now that she wasn't facing him. _Finally!_ An extra lesson to help distract her ever frantic mind. But it wasn't just that. Hermione realized that despite his unapproachable demeanor and drab presence, she was beginning to feel a fondness for the professor that never in her life had she thought she would feel for him. While there had been no doubt in any of their minds that he was a bully who could hold a deep grudge that sometimes manifested into pure malice, Harry and Ron had both believed him to be evil—a true follower of Voldemort—when, in reality, he had been risking his life every day to not only protect someone he disliked, but to end Voldemort once and for all. A man like that, Hermione knew, could not just be all black and white, as hardly anyone ever was. Keeping this in mind, she couldn't help but wonder what lay underneath his tough exterior.

She wondered if there was more kindness to him. She wondered if there was a way she could find an opportunity to glimpse happiness in him. He had always seemed angry and cold—distant and private and, sometimes, a bit frightening. But now? She found that he was changed, if only slightly, but still… different. And she desperately wanted to see what else there was to the mysterious Severus Snape.

After dinner, Hermione approached Professor Weasley at the staff table, planning to introduce the subject of private Defence lessons. Professor Snape happened to be sitting beside the rosy-cheeked Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. As she reached the table she noticed that her potion professor's gaze was focused intently on her. When she looked towards him he held her eyes for less than a second and then looked away. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but she felt her stomach give a small lurch. She turned her attention to Ginny's mother and greeted her with a smile.

"Professor Weasley," Hermione began, politely. "I was wondering when an appropriate time would be to speak to you about private lessons."

"Oh, Hermione dear, yes, yes. I completely forgot at your wanting to meet after class today, I'm sorry. Why don't we head to my office to discuss it?"

Professor Weasley had been rather busy, Hermione noticed. She had the feeling that she wouldn't be able to take private lessons with her, but was now unsure as to if Snape would be willing to tutor her in more than one subject as he had done in her sixth year. He had taken a while in deciding when they could do potion lessons and she suspected he, too, was busy.

"Absolutely," Hermione replied.

"Wonderful, we can walk there now," the pleasant professor prompted. Professor Weasley turned to Snape and said, "Good evening, Severus," then turned to Hagrid who was seated on her other side and bid him good evening as well. Both wizards wished her a good evening politely, Hagrid sounding slightly sincerer than the former.

"I know you're very busy, professor," Hermione began as they walked to the third floor where the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and Professor Weasley's office was. "But I was hoping to continue my private lessons and, as you are the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I—" but the witch she had known for the past seven years interrupted her with a flurry of her hand.

"I understand, dear, but you really should ask Professor Snape as you and he, as Professor McGonagall tells me, practiced together during your sixth year." She steered Hermione into her classroom as she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I also will admit, trusting that this will stay between you and me, that I am feeling rather overwhelmed. I'll admit, when Minerva—Professor McGonagall—offered me this position I was incredibly flattered…"

"I would be, too," Hermione replied, nodding.

"Well, as I said, I think you should ask Professor Snape. I appreciate you coming to me first, of course, and I would love to tutor you, but I've already taken on a third-year student and a fifth-year student, both wanting extra lessons to better prepare them for their exams. Why don't you ask Professor McGonagall if she thinks asking Professor Snape would be reasonable?"

Not wanting to trouble Professor Weasley further, Hermione refrained from explaining she was already taking private potion lessons with the dark wizard. Smiling, she agreed that would be her best course of action.

Patting Hermione's cheek affectionately, Professor Weasley asked if she would like to have some tea with her in her office, as they were still standing in the middle of the classroom.

"Thank you so much, but I'd really like to spend the rest of the evening studying," the young witch replied.

Hermione left to go to the library. On her way she passed Ginny, who was scolding and docking points from two fourth-years for having used a leg-logging jinx on a second-year. She smiled to herself as she heard the red-head reprimanding the students, sounding so much like her mother it was quite frightening.

She had only been in the library for about an hour, reading one of her Ancient Runes texts, when a dark shadow appeared behind her. Looking around, she gave a small squeak as she saw Professor Snape looming over her. His lip quirked up at the side in response to her noise of surprise.

She blushed furiously. "You startled me, Professor," she sighed.

"My apologies," he drawled, not sounding sorry at all, but amused. "I came to give you some reading material that will help prepare you for our upcoming potion lessons." He took out a book Hermione recognized and continued, "As the library's copy is currently checked out, I was forced to retrieve this from my private book collection, so please do treat it with care."

Hermione couldn't help but break out into a large grin. "No need, Professor," she replied pleasantly. She reached into her book bag and pulled out _Practical but Rare Potions: Test Your Brewing Skills_.

His mouth fell open slightly in surprise, then he did something Hermione had never seen him do. He gave her a smile. It was small, and only revealed a few of his teeth (which really weren't _that_ crooked), but it was a smile nonetheless.

Trying not to fall out of her chair in shock, Hermione could only stare at him in wonder as he spoke. "Of course. Why am I surprised that you were the student who had borrowed the book? I suppose you asked Madam Pince which potions book would be most helpful for your NEWTs?"

Hermione managed to shake her head and reply, "Actually, I found this the day after we shelved the potion books that Slughorn had stored away. I was…curious," she admitted, shyly, "to see what books you had been shelving that I hadn't seen. This book in particular," she explained as she gently caressed the front cover, "seemed to be the best volume to help me advance in my potion brewing skills."

Snape's face had returned to its normal, unreadable expression, and she found herself missing his smile, no matter how miniscule or short-lived it had been. "Very well," he replied, once more completely business-like. "Try to finish reading chapters one through ten tonight and you should be well prepared for our lesson tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir."

With a curt nod, her professor left. Hermione watched as his black robes swelled up behind him like waves in a midnight ocean.

.Beat.

 _Get a grip on yourself, Severus. The witch only chose the correct book. It's not that impressive, nor unheard of. Why, you yourself had on occasion—_ The potions master halted his own thoughts. He was not about to compare that exasperating Gryffindor to himself!

Severus was making his way to his private quarters, angry with himself for his behavior back in the library. Allowing himself to break out a grin in front of her. _Blast it!_ She would likely go running to her friends and shock them all by admitting that Hogwarts' most infamous potions professor had grinned at her. She might even write to Potter!

No… No. He had a strong feeling, a deeper feeling that nestled in the pit of his stomach, that the witch wouldn't tease him for it, let alone tell anyone. _Perhaps she had liked it_ , he found himself thinking. With a firm shake of his head he dismissed the idea.

Instead, he began thinking about how he hadn't found her in the piano room at all that week after their meeting on Monday. It was now Thursday evening, and though he was only on the night rounds roster twice that week, he had gone out of his way on Tuesday and Wednesday to see if she had gone back, assuring himself it was simply to check on her well-being. He had the feeling he wouldn't be finding her there tonight, either. It could be that she was finally able to go to sleep. It could be that she didn't want to chance someone else catching her out after curfew. It could be that she didn't want to have another exchange with him again.

 _Oh, but what does it matter!_ He growled in his head as he stormed off to the dungeons.

Yet, the feeling of disappointment continued to nag at him all through the night.

During their private potion lesson the following day, he was pleased to discover that his pupil had read the entire volume. Though he had sneered at her in his usual manner at her over-exuberance— _The complete, text, Miss Granger? There was no need to stay up all night reading when I specified only chapters one through ten. I hope you're able to stay away during our lesson_ —he found himself impressed. Which was irritating.

She had proceeded to summarize the key points that linked with their lesson for that day, even including some discoveries she had made in association with the book and their regular lesson on Thursday. Trying not to give her the impression that he was pleased, he focused on the instructions he had prepared for their lesson and avoided looking at her directly.

They had been alone together in the library, in the music room, and in his classroom after the normal lesson, but somehow this felt more intimate. Sharing the same cauldron, reading from the same book, referring to the same parchment he had written, brewing side by side. Well, she mostly brewed while he stood next to her and observed, making suggestions and critiques as she went, and yet on a few occasions he had to pull his eyes away from her neck, finding himself being pulled into the memory of how it had been exposed as she played the piano. As she brewed, his eyes lingered on her hands longer than necessary, remembering the way they had trailed over the piano keys, and how they had tenderly caressed the library's potion book the previous evening.

The hour seemed to drag. He didn't want her to leave, but at the same time he couldn't get her to leave soon enough. It was maddening.

Finally, she finished her potion and he examined it. "Well done. Ten points to Gryffindor," he announced.

"Thank you, Professor." He had expected her to smile up at him, but instead he found her to be biting her lower lip nervously. "I, uh, need to ask you something."

The reluctance in her tone caused him to bring his eyes to hers. "Yes?"

"I asked Professor Weasley earlier today if I would be able to take private Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons with her and, well—"

Severus spared her by finishing, "She proclaimed to be too busy, and suggested you should ask me."

"Well, not just that. She suggested I ask Professor McGonagall first, which I did this morning. The headmistress also suggested that I ask you." She looked down, out of shyness or dread, he did not know.

Taking a deep breath, he mulled over his choices, but quickly realized he had very little. As much as he didn't want to dedicate another hour of his week to private tutoring, he felt conflicted as to whether he did or did not want to spend more time with Granger. Half of him longed to share more moments with her, to be in her presence longer, as he found himself becoming more intrigued by her as the days passed, while the other half screamed and raged at him to stop being so ridiculous and to stay the bloody hell away from her.

Sighing, he replied, "Why don't we have our private potion lessons once every other week at this time as we agreed, and have our Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons on the Fridays we are not meeting for potions?"

She lifted her head and gifted him with the large grin he was becoming so used to seeing on her face. In that moment he realized that her front teeth weren't overgrown as they had been when she had been younger. When had that happened, and why was he just now noticing? It was rare that anything went unnoticed around him. Was it because she had only been giving him smaller smiles before this? Or had she magicked her teeth smaller just recently? Maybe he should attempt to straighten some of his crooked teeth…

She pulled him out of his thoughts when she said, "Thank you, Sir, your willingness to tutor me in both subjects once again is very…" it seemed as if she was trying to choose her words carefully. "Considerate," she decided.

All he could do was nod. Considerate. Severus Snape… considerate? Oh, for the love of Merlin…

.Beat.

That weekend passed in a similar way as the previous weekend. Hermione and her friends spent time together and she enjoyed listening to Ginny talk about how difficult Quidditch tryouts were, while Neville shared some interesting information he had learned with Professor Sprout during their first private lesson together. Luna announced that the introductions between Capricus, Millie and Pandora Twinkle-Toes had gone well, and Hermione found herself mentioning her first potion lesson with Snape, and how he had agreed to also tutor her in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Why didn't you ask my mom?" Ginny inquired.

"Oh, I did," Hermione replied. "She wanted to, but said she was just too busy already. At first I was rather disappointed because I really thought Professor Snape would refuse me."

"I wouldn't think he would refuse you," the Head Girl said.

"Ginny, just last week you were basically calling him a git," Hermione argued.

"Well, I don't know what you did or said to him, but he hasn't been acting like a git at all, at least, not to you. I know he gave a fifth-year Hufflepuff student a pretty hard time the other day, but the Puff did spill Alihotsy all over the desk, so..."

"Blimey," Neville whispered. "What did Snape do?"

"I heard the Ravenclaw fifth-years talking about it in the common room," Luna piped in. "From what I heard, he shouted a lot, but they did make note of how he didn't say anything insulting. He did take points away, but that's rather normal."

"He gave him a detention, too, for today" Ginny added. "I saw the Ravenclaw Prefect, Gertrude Mills, giving him the note from Snape yesterday."

"Poor bloke, has to miss out on this nice Sunday because of detention, but, if Snape really didn't call the Hufflepuff student any names, maybe he really is changing, or trying to at least." Neville brought his eyes to Hermione's and she gave him a small smile. Both she and Neville had endured plenty of Snape's cruel insults in the past.

"I don't think Professor Snape is the only one who is trying to change," Luna said. "A couple Slytherin girls have been sitting at the Ravenclaw table during breakfast. It seems like they've made good friends with a sixth-year Ravenclaw, Matthew Turner."

"And I had to practically pull apart a fourth-year Hufflepuff and a fifth-year Slytherin who were snogging each other outside of the Charms classroom yesterday," Ginny added. "But it really isn't as uncommon as we think. I dated Michael and he was a Ravenclaw."

"Yeah, but Slytherins dating outside their House?" Neville asked, clearly bewildered.

"I know quite a few Ravenclaws who have dated Slytherins," Luna said.

"And I know that back in my fifth year there was a Hufflepuff dating a Slytherin," Ginny said. "I saw her kiss one of the Slytherin Chasers after they won a Quidditch game."

"I guess I just never really paid attention to who was dating who unless it affected me, or my friends," Hermione explained. "I remember when you dated Michael, Ginny, because I was preparing for the explosion that was named Ronald, but otherwise, I never really noticed inter-House romances, let alone friendships."

"Gryffindors are kind of into themselves a bit," Luna reasoned. Hermione, Ginny and Neville just stared at her. "It's not _bad_ ," she added. "Just something that I've noticed."

Ginny burst out laughing and rested her head on the unabashedly matter-of-fact Ravenclaw. "Luna, I love you."

Neville and Hermione joined the laughter. They all definitely needed more of it in their lives.

Later that night, Hermione woke suddenly. She was sweating profusely, and hot tears were flooding down her cheeks. She bolted up in bed, her sobs causing her entire body to quake. She reached for her wand and lit the lantern in her room, but even with the light she felt her anguish wash through her body and soul like a tsunami.

She needed to escape.

Gripping tightly to her wand as if it were a lifeline, she and rushed to her door and pushed through it, letting it fall closed behind her. She ran down the hallway, nearly forgetting to light her wand.

She turned down the seventh floor's corridor and made a beeline for the staircase that would lead her to the first floor, where the Hospital Wing was located. Finally after having clamored down six flights of stairs without stepping into a trick step or having one of the staircases suddenly change on her, she touched down on the first floor and sprinted towards the only place she thought could help her.

As she turned the corner she ran headlong into something tall, dark, and dense. The obstacle let out a loud grunt, promptly followed by a very loud curse. Hermione, meanwhile, had fallen back and landed squarely on her arse. She let out a yelp of pain, causing fresh tears to spring into her eyes.

"Miss Granger! What in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?!"

Of course it would be him. Of course.

.Beat.

Severus rubbed the spot on his chest the witch had collided with. He was furious. Who in their right mind would be running through the halls of Hogwarts at this hour? And of all people…

"Miss Granger, answer me!" he hissed out when the witch had not replied. He directed his lit wand tip into her face and saw, to his dismay, the young witch was sobbing uncontrollably. Worse than he had ever seen from her. He stepped back, using the light from his wand to take in all of her disheveled form.

Her hair, which must have previously been in a bun, was falling all over the place—brown, frizzy strands striking out as if attempting to flee her scalp. She wasn't wearing a bathrobe, just a pair of small shorts and a tank top. Her pajamas, apparently, but Severus could feel his pulse quicken as his gaze rested on the curves of her breasts and the naked legs before him. She had not planned to be out, he realized.

Something was definitely wrong. Very wrong.

Dropping all austerity, Severus bent down next to her and grabbed her shoulders, peering at her face for signs of illness or injury. The eyes that met his held the most intense pain he had ever seen in them, and he found his blood turning icy cold. "What is wrong?" he asked softly.

"I was… I was going to the Hospital Wing…" sobbed the witch.

"I will escort you there," he said immediately. "Can you stand?"

Granger nodded her head, continuing to sob. He took one of her arms and helped her to her feet, noticing that she cringed in pain as she stood, most likely from her sudden fall. No doubt her tail bone was bruised. He kept his grip tight on her arm and attempted to ignore the strange feeling in his gut at their close contact and what little clothing she wore. As they approached the Hospital Wing, the wizard raised his wand and the doors to the room opened immediately to allow them entry.

Poppy was pulling on a bathrobe as Severus and his student entered, her eyes widening when she saw the two of them. She rushed to Hermione's side at once and gasped, "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," the potions professor replied, at a loss. "She was running down the corridor when we collided. She was on her way here and already in distress. She hasn't explained what is wrong or what has happened."

The matron guided Granger over to a bed and Severus helped. Once she was seated, he reluctantly let go of her arm, but felt her reach out and clutch tightly to his robes. Holding back a murmur of surprise, he got down on one knee and held the trembling witch's hands in his, ignoring the rush in his stomach, as Poppy conjured a cold rag and dabbed Granger's head, which Severus had just realized was sweating. As he looked closer he saw that all of the witch seemed to be drenched in sweat.

Understanding hit him forcefully and he asked, softly, "Miss Granger, did you experience a nocturnal panic attack?"

The trembling witch gave a small nod in reply.

Severus met the matron's worried gaze and she gave him a curt nod. "Could you stay with her for a moment, Severus?" she asked him, to which he nodded a yes.

"Miss Granger, Madam Pomfrey has gone to retrieve an ointment that will help you to relax. Once the calming effect takes place, I encourage you to talk to her about your night terror."

He watched as she shook her head. He sighed, about to explain why she needed to speak with someone, when she whispered, "I don't want to talk to Madam Pomfrey." Her hand, smaller than his, tugged tighter on his robes, and he felt as if she had managed to grasp through his clothes, through his skin, all the way to his heartstrings.

"It is important that you speak with someone about this," he insisted.

"I don't want to talk to her, I—" she took a deep, shuddering breath. "I would prefer talking to you."

His chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself. Every atom in his body was screaming _yes, yes, help the girl!_ , but his brain wouldn't stop cursing at him and telling him not to be an idiot. He had already allowed her to open up to him too much.

Madam Pomfrey came back with a small bottle of thick, pasty liquid which she began rubbing gently on each of Granger's temples, then the soft spot under her chin, the back of her neck where her hairline began, and lastly on the inside of each wrist. The effect was almost immediate. The young witch's body stopped trembling and her grip on his arm relaxed but did not release.

"Hermione, it's best that you talk about your night terror. I'm willing to listen whenever you're ready," the matron told her patient kindly.

The girl's brown eyes were trained onto Severus and seemed to reach down into his soul, or what was left of it, pleading with him, silently crying out.

"I will talk with her, Poppy," Severus heard himself saying as if in a dream.

The matron's mouth dropped open slightly, but she regained her composure quickly and gave him and her patient a small smile and nod. "Alright, but please, if you need me, I will be just inside my office. I won't head back to bed until I know that she is feeling better."

"Thank you," Severus whispered.

When the matron had gone back into her office, his student turned to him and she released his robes, seeming to believe that he wasn't going to leave her. "I dreamt…of my parents…" she whispered.

Severus was confused. Why would dreaming of her parents induce a panic attack? "I don't understand…why would that—"

She cut him off and continued, "I dreamt of the day I obliviated them."

Severus was struck silent. Obliviated? Her own parents? But why? And the answer came to him as suddenly as the tears sprung into miss Granger's eyes. She had obliviated them to protect them. So that the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to find them and torture them for her, or Harry's, whereabouts. And they were muggles. They'd be killed without hesitation once the Death Eaters had tortured out any information they were able to provide.

"In the dream…they knew what I was going to do… my father, he was—he was begging me not to…and he was holding my mother who wouldn't—wouldn't stop crying… but I did it anyway… and then the dream cha-changed and I was staring down at their lifeless bodies." She let out a harrowing sob. "They had died in a car accident and I hadn't—I hadn't been able to get to them in time to bring back their memories. They di-died and they didn't even know they had a da-daughter…" Hot tears were falling steadily down her face, but she wasn't trembling. While the ointment had calmed her body, it didn't seem potent enough to ease her sorrow.

Severus lifted his hand, faltered, dropped it, and let out a long sigh. "Where are they now, Miss Granger?"

"Australia. And I still haven't found the right spell to bring back all their memories. I've asked McGonagall, and she says that the only two wizards she knew of who could reverse such a powerful Obliviation charm had been Dumbledore and Voldemort. I've pleaded with Kingsley to ask any Unspeakables if they know of a spell, but—but he said it was not possible."

"What if, instead of a spell, we used a potion?"

She stared at him, confusion written on her tear-stained face. "We?"

Severus attempted to give her a kind smile. "Yes. We. Our potion lessons from now on will be dedicated to brewing a potion that will help your parents." She was speechless, so he smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Unless you would rather continue the tedious and much less helpful potions for your NEWTs?"

The return to his regular use of sarcasm seemed to pull her out of her shocked trance. She let out a small laugh and replied, "Professor, that would be… yes. Please." Her tears had stopped and relief was written all over her face.

Poppy poked her head out of her office and called, "What that a laugh I heard?"

Miss Granger turned to her and nodded, brown curls bouncing. "I feel much better now, Madam Pomfrey," she sniffed. "Thank you so much."

The matron walked over to the pair with a look of bewilderment on her face. "Of course, Miss Granger. I'm pleased to see you're feeling better." She handed Miss Granger a blanket to wrap around her and held out a small bottle. "Take this with you in case you continue to experience night terrors. The ointment will help calm your body, helping you to regain control over your thoughts."

Granger thanked the matron and then turned to look up at Severus.

"I'll escort Miss Granger back to her room," he told Poppy, holding his student's warm gaze.

As they left, he saw the matron stare after them with a look full of wonder. He could practically hear her thoughts yelling: How did Severus Snape, of all the professors at this school, manage to comfort the young witch so quickly?

Turning away from the Hospital Wing, he smirked to himself. Apparently, at this moment at least, he found himself able to enjoy shocking people with his new-found kindness almost as much as he enjoyed shocking them with his viciousness.

A/N: Here is another longer chapter for you readers, also full of warm fuzzies! Will our pair soon admit their growing attraction to one another? Continue to follow and find out! I hope you're enjoying the story and please comment/critique, fave and follow! Thank you all!


	7. Chapter 7 - Il Regalo (The Gift)

Chapter 7

Il Regalo

(The Gift)

Hermione's 19th birthday was fast-approaching. The second Thursday of term arrived quickly, with all of her week's potion lessons more enjoyable than usual, mainly due to the fact that every time her professor spoke she was remembering the way he had kindly offered to help her restore her parents' memories. Even though their next private potions lesson wasn't due until the following Friday, she couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of having an extremely talented and intelligent wizard helping her discover a new potion, one that would, hopefully, change her life for the better. She was pulled out of her excited daydreams of finding a cure that she barely heard her professor announce that they were done for the day. Shaking her head dazedly, realizing she had let her mind wander after having completed her assignment fifteen minutes before the end of class, she began putting her things back into her school bag.

"Miss Granger, a moment…please."

Her head snapped up in surprise at her professor's lazy drawl, accompanied by a word she knew he was still getting used to using. "Of course, Professor," she replied. Turning to Ginny she told her friend she'd meet up with her later.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked once she had reached his desk.

"I need to reschedule our first Defence lesson. Would you be available for Saturday at eleven-thirty?"

Making what she knew was a risky move, she decided to let her curiousness, and boldness, get the better of her. "Is there a problem with having our lessons on Friday as we planned?"

He surveyed her shrewdly and she could hear her heart thudding in her chest. In the past, he would have dismissed her question. Would he do so this time?

"While it is none of your business, I can see that your curiosity is at its peak, and my answer may, perhaps, have some barring on our future private lessons." He continued to stare her down, causing her to feel quite nervous. What did he mean, his answer may have some barring on their future private lessons? He must have decided that he had dragged out the pause long enough for he continued, "I have been asked by the headmistress to run an errand that will take up most of my time tomorrow from noon until late into the evening. As you do not have a free period earlier than that time, I cannot tutor you as we planned tomorrow, but all other Fridays should be suitable. With that said, do you agree to meeting me at eleven-thirty on Saturday?"

Now she really felt nervous. "Um… well…" The witch didn't want to miss out on their first Defence lesson, but she also knew that her three friends had planned a surprise birthday picnic for her at noon. She had accidentally overheard Ginny and Luna whispering to Neville about it in the returning seventh-year student's hallway.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" he asked, his right eyebrow perched in mild curiosity.

"I… um…" she didn't know what to say. Would it be acceptable for her to request a different time?

"Just spit it out, Granger, I don't have all day," he drawled, looking back down at his parchment and continuing to drag his quill across its yellowed page.

"Saturday is my birthday," she admitted, lamely.

His quill stopped abruptly. He brought his eyes to hers again, a dark look replacing what had been curiosity moments before. "Ah. I see. I suppose you are implying that you will be engaged?"

"Well, I, erm… Ginny and Luna and Neville have planned a surprise picnic for me at noon… would we be able to have the lesson later in the day?"

He continued to stare her down but did not respond.

"I don't want to miss out on the first lesson, especially since you were so considerate as to take time out of each week to tutor me," she added in a rush.

Snape smirked. "No need for that, Miss Granger. I was just attempting a mental run-through to see if I would be available at a later time. I suppose that the evening would be suitable, if you are not otherwise expected to attend a _surprise_ dinner party as well? Say… eight o'clock?"

She balked, openly. When she didn't reply he asked, "Have I rendered you speechless, or are your temporarily incapable of a 'thank you, Sir'?"

"Th—thank you, Sir!" She didn't let herself smile, in case he looked up from the parchment and became annoyed. "I'll see you Saturday at eight."

She turned to leave, allowing the small smile to cross her lips. Either he was doing her a genuine kindness, or he was just playing nice so as not to stir up her emotions, as he had now seen her in her most fragile state yet. No matter the reason, she was relieved that she'd be able to keep her promise to her friends… they were one of the brightest sparks to her life, in addition to her private lessons, and she didn't want to let them down in any way.

.Beat.

Of course she'd be wanting to do something to celebrate her birthday. It was on a Saturday, after all. And, of course, she'd have friends who wanted to celebrate with her. It was so obvious, and so _normal_ , yet his insides were burning.

Severus was pacing back and forth in his private sitting room, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. It had been an hour since Granger had left his classroom, practically prancing with happiness on her way out. Since then, he had been battling feelings of jealousy, irritation, and overall frustration. He had been giving in to the girl too much, he knew that. He should have just told her they would have to cancel the first lesson altogether—that he couldn't tutor her on Saturday at any other time except the time he had allotted. Instead, he had indulged her.

He could only remember having one friend who knew his birthday, let alone desired to celebrate it. That had been Lily. But their frivolous frolicking together had ended abruptly in his fifth year, after having said something to Lily that to this day he continued to regret. Since then, not a single person had offered to celebrate his birthday with him. Albus and Minerva had both sent him a card and occasional gift, but other than that, not even Lucius or Narcissa had taken the time to address it, and certainly none of his other colleagues.

But yet, even in her sixth year, Miss Granger had been the center of her friend's adoration on her 17th birthday. It was, of course, an important birthday since seventeen is the age when witches and wizards come into adulthood by wizarding law.

Snape remembered it as if it were yesterday; during their private lesson during her sixth year, when Potter, the two youngest Weasleys, and Miss Lovegood had interrupted their lesson to wish her a happy birthday. They, of course, didn't know it was a private lesson, as he had told Granger not to breathe a word of their lessons to any student. They were under the impression it was a detention.

He could still remember the newly-seventeen witch's cheeks flush in embarrassment, but her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise. He had scowled and glared, of course. But that didn't deter her friends from hugging her, Miss Lovegood placing a tiara made of daises on top of the bushy head of hair, and them all assuring her they had gifts to give her as soon her detention was done. He remembered he had then snapped at them, threatening separate detentions for each of them.

They left quickly, being there barely for a couple minutes, leaving with glares at Severus and smiles at Granger, and he couldn't help but notice that his student's entire presence had changed. She moved lighter, seemed brighter. She wouldn't meet his eyes, but apologized for her friends and their interruption, claiming it had been entirely unnecessary. While he was irked, he had also been touched. Not by her friend's display of affection, but because of the way his student had positively shone with happiness. In that moment, he remembered when he had seen Lily light up like that when they had been friends together.

But the feeling vanished almost as quickly as it had come. He remembered snapping at Granger then, saying that he would be deducting five points from her house for the disruption, and that she should immediately proceed with her assignment. She deflated slightly, but not even his harshness seemed capable of bringing her down completely. She continued to wear the flower tiara proudly and he found himself scowling at it, and her, for the duration of their lesson.

He hadn't indulged her then. So why had he now? It infuriated him. Was it because Potter and his dunderhead side-kick were no longer at the school? Was it because he was just too tired to waste the effort of snapping and scowling and deducting points? It could be, but… he felt there was more.

Because he had the shameful desire to spend time with her on her birthday. That had been one of the reasons he felt so jealous—but more importantly, irritated with himself for even harboring the desire. _She is my_ student, he told himself firmly. Aside from their lessons, he had no reason to spend time with her. That was what friends would do and… they were not, could not be, friends.

He slammed his fist into the wall. A few books toppled off it and fell to the floor at his feet. Breathing heavily, he bent down to pick them up with the hand that was not throbbing in pain. Bringing the books up to the shelf, he got an idea…

.Beat.

Hermione was walking to her Advanced Ancient Runes class the following day on the first floor, heading for the front doors as she knew their lesson would be held outside that day. As she walked past the hallway that lead down to the dungeons, she suddenly heard what was unmistakably an explosion followed by a loud shout.

Drawing her wand, Hermione ran down the long corridor that she knew lead to the potions classroom and the Slytherin House common room. She could see an acidic green gas wafting out from a door to her left that she had never entered before, across from the potions classroom. She heard another shout from inside and grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. Without giving it a second thought, she cast the _Alohamora_ charm to unlock it and it swung open, letting out more putrid, green smoke.

"Fuck!"

The swear had come from a very angry, very loud, and very male voice.

Hermione entered the room, lighting her wand tip to try and make out the man who had emitted the swear word through the darkness and green haze.

Snape, his shoulder-length hair tied back, his regular black robes and frock coat nowhere to be seen, was furiously trying to stop what appeared to be a potion gone horribly wrong. His face was contorted with rage, or more than likely frustration and disappointment (as Hermione had experienced the same expression on her own face before). But because she could now see his sharp cheek bones and strong jawline, she couldn't help but stop in her tracks and just...stare. Not only was his face fully revealed, as opposed to being partly concealed by raven hair, but he wore only his black dragon hide boots, black pants, and a thin, loose, button-up, collared white shirt that was apparently drenched in sweat. The top of his sleeves clung to his arms and she was able to discern his biceps and shoulder muscles under its thin fabric even from where she stood in the dim light. She could also make out bright red, fleshy-colored lines along his upper neck and back. Had he received those due to the malfunctioning potion?

"Professor, are you alright?" she found herself finally asking, able to speak at last.

His entire body tensed and he righted himself, spinning towards her with more agility than she had thought him capable. His eyes met hers and she was surprised to see that they seemed shocked. Shock quickly turned to anger and...something else she couldn't quite place.

"Do you need help?" she squeaked, despite the look in his eyes causing her blood to turn icy with fear.

He hurled himself towards her, grabbing her by the arm and steering her, roughly, out of the room. With a flick of his wrist the door slammed shut and they were both standing in the dungeon corridor. He was breathing heavily, his entire body seeming to move up and down with his breaths.

"What the _devil_ did you think you were doing, Granger?" he snarled.

"I heard an explosion and a shout," she explained, trying not to show any discomfort at his vice-like grip on her arm, but it was rather painful.

"So you come bursting into a room that was obviously the source of said explosion? Your survival instincts are that of a flobberworm!" Snape snapped.

She could feel hot tears well up in her eyes. She yanked her arm out of his grip, causing him to momentarily look stunned. Perhaps he had not registered at how tightly he had been gripping her. "I thought someone was hurt!" she yelled, refusing to back down when she knew her intentions had been to help.

"You put yourself in considerable danger!" he shouted.

"Not like I've ever done that before!" she shot back, matching his volume.

"You had no right to—"

"No right? No right?!" she threw her hands up and let out a sarcastic bark of a laugh, which sounded strange even to her own ears, but she was fed up with this. She was fed up with him being kind and tender to her one day and then assaulting her the next. "I have every right to help whomever I think needs help. I have the right to break down every door in this castle if it means saving someone. I have every _fucking_ right to tell you that you are an insufferable git who can't control his temper even when he knows he just made a colossal mistake that could have," she looked at the cuts that trailed up the back and sides of his neck and corrected herself, "that _did_ cause him harm, and that I was only offering assistance to help spare him more pain."

She was heaving now, her body shaking with anger and frustration and Merlin she really just wanted to slap him across his sharp cheek bones and cause his pale skin to turn red.

"What pain is it that you think I have endured, besides my own pride being plundered?"

Hermione faltered. "Your...those... those cuts didn't come from just now?" she asked, her eyes pointing to what she could make out of his injuries.

Snape's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "No."

"I... but..."

Snape sighed and turned his head to the right, away from her. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned his back on her, opened the door he had slammed shut, and walked back inside the room that had moments before been suffocating in smoke. "Follow me," he growled at her.

Intrigued, she allowed herself to follow him, but cautiously.

"Close the door behind you," he muttered.

Hesitating, she drew her wand but did not follow through with the spell.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, you are permitted to leave whenever you like. I, on the other hand, would rather our conversation be as private as possible."

Even more intrigued, she spelled the door closed and came to stand beside him where he was cleaning up the mess that his potion had caused.

"If you wouldn't mind assisting me," he said with a wave of his hands towards the disaster before them. The cauldron was melted, the desk smoking green, an awful smell permeated the air around them, and the vials and indiscernible potion ingredients were covered in a thick, dark green, almost black, smoking paste.

Together they began casting spells to clean up the mess, both trying to preserve anything that could, potentially, be salvageable.

"I apologize…" The potions professor began quietly as he syphoned some of the sickly paste into the thickest copper cauldron Hermione had ever seen, which her professor had summoned only moments before from one of the cabinets. The substance did not melt the copper cauldron as it had with the pewter one. "For my shouting and anger and…" he paused.

"Rough handling," Hermione mumbled softly, but she saw the edge of his lip turn up ever so slightly at her choice of words.

"Yes. I apologize for that. I don't mean to attempt to excuse my actions, however this potion is… very volatile at this stage and for a frantic moment I feared for your safety. I had been brewing this in my private lab particularly to keep it away from any of the student body. When I saw you had made it past my room's enchantments and had come so close to the spill just before I had the chance to contain it, I…"

"Nearly shat your pants?" Hermione supplied.

Snape's eyebrows shot up and he turned to stare at her in alarm, but when she broke out laughing his expression softened and he seemed to allow himself a small grin. Yes, she was pretty hacked off that he had treated her the way he had, but if he was telling her the truth, it had been because he had panicked in worrying for her safety.

"Apology accepted," she told him. "However, I was very tempted to slap you right across your pretty cheekbone." Realizing that she had let those words slip out aloud, her face reddened and she quickly turned away from him, unable to face his reaction.

"Pretty?" There was a hint of surprise and amusement in his tone.

Continuing to flush, Hermione spluttered, "Anyway, what was this potion, er, _supposed_ to be?" she asked, desperately trying to steer him off the topic of his pretty cheekbone.

Luckily, he took the bait. "I was attempting to brew a potion that would temporarily relieve the drinker of unwanted memories."

"Why not just extract the memories and store them somewhere?"

"Because for less skilled witches and wizards that can be a complicated task. I am attempting to brew something that would not be so complicated—something that would help many a person, including children, who may not want to go through the discomfort of having a memory, or memories, extracted from their mind by wand."

"Memory extraction is painful?" Hermione inquired, having never experienced the sensation herself.

"It is not painful, per say, but it is a very unnerving feeling to those who have not grown themselves accustomed to it. And it is often more than not for young children to experience pain and or anxiety at new magical experiences, especially one as invasive as memory extraction."

"I...see. And the potion is not going well, I take it?"

He scowled at her. "No. It is not. And it is maddening."

Her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "What prompted you to begin trying to brew one?"

He hesitated then, his eyes flickering away from her and instead resting on the now empty cauldron.

"Is it...is it because you wish to not have to relive certain memories?" she pressed, tentatively, knowing she was taking a huge risk. She wanted so much for him to open up to her as he had allowed her to do with him. But she also didn't want him to become angry.

He raised his sable eyes to meet hers. "Do you truly believe me to be so selfish?"

That stung. "I don't think that would be selfish of you, Sir. There are plenty of memories I wish I could mute or pause to come back to at another time, when I felt braver, stronger, more prepared, to face them."

"And that is exactly why I began to attempt this daunting task," he muttered, more to himself it seemed than to her.

She felt her mouth fall slightly open. "You… you started this experiment because of… _me_?" Before he could answer she rushed on, "Professor, you've already done so much for me, by allowing me to take extra lessons with you every week, and for vowing to help me discover a way to help my parents. You don't need to do anymore on my account."

He didn't answer her, so she averted her eyes and finished cleaning up her portion of the table she had been helping him repair. When she straightened back up and chanced a glance at him she froze, noticing that he was staring intently at her. They locked eyes for a few moments and she was keenly aware of her heart thundering in her chest. All thoughts of cleaning, of how she was missing her Advanced Ancient Runes class, of how he had hurt her in his desperation to take her away from the failed potion, fled her mind as his eyes, shining like hematite, bore into her own.

"Wait for me here." Even though he didn't say please, she could tell it was still a request, not an order. However, had she wanted to leave, she would have found her legs too weak to move. He disappeared into a doorway off to the left of his private lab, his form seeming to become one with the darkness.

Feeling nervous for reasons she wasn't entirely willing to analyze, or admit, she rested her hand on the side of the repaired desk to steady herself.

He returned sooner than she had expected. She noticed he carried something in his right hand. She immediately recognized the shape being that of a book. Letting out a slow breath, not realizing she had been holding one in, she felt relieved. A book. That was all.

He stopped in front of her, closer than they normally stood when working together, and held the book out for her to take. Her fingers brushed up against his long fingers, as they had done her first day back, in the library. She was pleased to find that his hand was just as warm as it had been on that day. She looked down at the cover and read the title _The Deadly Art of Defence_. As her eyes found the last word she felt a soft, warm gust of breath next to her left ear.

"Happy birthday, Miss Granger."

His warm whisper seemed to travel through her, burning her insides in an incredibly pleasurable way. Her cheeks flushed, her spine tingled, her hands grasped the book tighter, her head felt dizzy. But his mouth next to her ear was gone as quickly as it had come and he was turning away from her, towards the copper cauldron he had used to collect what was left of his potion.

"Th—thank you, Professor," she whispered.

"And thank you, for helping me clean up my mess." He picked up the cauldron and headed back towards the door he had disappeared into moments before. He reached the door and turned back, his face unreadable as he said, "You may find the first page particularly agreeable."

With trembling hands, Hermione looked down and opened the cover of the book. What she saw caused her to gasp, her eyes widening in amazement.

The most beautiful baby sea turtle had been painted, with magic, onto the first page. It swam over the page, over onto the inside of the front cover, the whole time trailing behind it bubbles of the invisible water it swam through. Its shell was shimmering with colors that invoked a sense of warmth and tranquility. Its movements were so realistic that Hermione was tempted to touch the painting, to see if it felt real, too. As the sea turtle twirled back around to return to the first page, the bubbles it trailed began to spell out a message.

 _Hello from Australia! See you this summer!_

Hermione looked up, tears in her eyes, ready to thank the man who had obviously put so much thought into this gift for her.

But he had gone.

A/N: Sooo I know it's been a bit warm and fuzzy the last 3 chapters. Hopefully that isn't killing it for any of you. But, never fear, as in any good story, there must be conflict. We're getting there ;-) In the mean time, I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. Thank you for the follows, faves and comments/critiques!


	8. Chapter 8 - Inaspettato Tempesta

Chapter 8

Inaspettato Tempesta

(Unexpected Storm)

Hermione didn't get a chance to thank her professor for his kind gift. She had interpreted it as a promise to her, from him, that they would find a cure to her parents' obvliations by the end of the school year. Understanding that he didn't want to make a scene, she didn't bring up the gift or thank him for it directly. Instead, during their first Defence private lesson the following evening she just thanked him for the book and said she thought it would help prepare her for their lessons. Seeing his small smile, she knew that he understood the words she had left unspoken.

True to his word, every other Friday, Professor Snape helped Hermione begin to research and brew a potion that would, hopefully, help restore her parents' memories. When they weren't researching and experimenting, or practicing Defence Against the Dark Arts, the professor and student continued to behave cordially with one another. She even ventured to ask him how his other experimental potions were going, and he was amiable enough to gift her with replies and the occasional update.

The first week of October arrived quickly and soon it was the weekend of their first trip to Hogsmeade.

Oddly enough, Hermione felt more excited than usual to be going to the entirely magical village, almost as if it was her first time visiting. She knew it was because she'd finally be seeing Harry again after over a month, and she was hoping that being in Hogsmeade with him and Ginny and the others would bring some feeling of normalcy back to her strange school year.

This year, Hermione was not only of-age in the wizarding community, but she was also of-age in the Muggle community as well. She hadn't been at school for her 18th birthday and therefore had not visited Hogsmeade (except when she and the boys had needed to break into the school), so this was the first year she was able to order alcoholic beverages from the Three Broomsticks that had a higher alcohol content than that of Butterbeer. She had tried Elderwine and Firewhiskey (both of which she had enjoyed) while at the Burrow, but other than that she hadn't tried many beverages intended for adult wizards. That, and the prospect of being with Harry again, put a smile on her face as soon as she started getting dressed for their outing.

There was a knock at her door and Neville's voice called, "Hey Hermione, are you ready? I told Luna and Ginny we'd meet them in the Great Hall."

Opening her door, she smiled brightly at her fellow Gryffindor. "Hi, Neville."

Together they walked down to the Great Hall and had pre-Hogsmeade lunch with Ginny and Luna. Luna was, surprisingly, sitting next to Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Remembering what Blaise had said to her, she peered around curiously, but couldn't tell if there were any other Houses sharing tables because everyone was in their casual clothes for the weekend. Making a mental note to pay attention to this on Monday, she said hello to the two girls and the four friends had lunch together.

They spent the time leading up to their Hogsmeade visit by talking about the places they wanted to visit in the village, how they had all missed it since their fifth year (Hermione and Neville's sixth year) and whether the sun would stay out throughout the day.

Hermione knew that Harry was planning to be in the Three Broomsticks by six that evening, and since he had asked McGonagall to allow Ginny and Luna permission to stay out later than the rest of the student body, Hermione knew that she and her friends would be spending most of their day, and evening, in the village. Neville and herself, being returning seventh-year students, already had permission to stay in Hogsmeade as late as ten o'clock. Harry's appeal to the Headmistress granted that same permission to Ginny and Luna, though they did not yet know it. They were under the assumption that they would need to leave Hogsmeade by seven o'clock along with the rest of the student body.

Per Harry's plan, Hermione was to suggest that they go to the Three Broomsticks just after six o'clock. At first, she had thought that the plan wouldn't work, as her friends would most likely want a Butterbeer before long. However, since it was a beautiful day outside, it seemed luck was on Hermione's side. Neville and Luna insisted on visiting the Shrieking Shack, now that they both knew it wasn't truly haunted (Ginny having told them the truth since Harry had told her Remus and Sirius's tale) and so that was to be their first stop.

The trek to the shack took half an hour. While Hermione found herself feeling slightly uncomfortable, her mind having trailed back to the memory of Snape being attacked by Nagini—and then of his crawling figure on the ground, having drug himself all the way from the shack to the castle—she was wanting desperately to leave, but knew that any time spent away from the Three Broomsticks would benefit Harry's plan.

The walk back into the main village took another half an hour, and then Ginny insisted on visiting Zonko's Joke Shop, mainly with the intent on seeing how many of her brothers' items had made it onto the shelves. George had purchased the shop shortly after the war and employed the shop keeper and staff to continue running it as per usual.

After they spent a considerable amount of time in Zonko's, they then visited Honeydukes, followed by Gladrags Wizardwear, and then on to visit Aberforth in the Hog's Head, where they spent quite a bit of time talking with the grizzled barman. Hermione glanced down at her watch as Neville and Aberforth were discussing how certain herbs helped to maintain his goats' health during the winter. Her watch was showing her that it was now five past six.

She leaned over and whispered to Ginny, "I'd like to visit the Three Broomsticks before you and Luna have to return to the castle."

Ginny glanced at the clock in the bar and noticed the time. "Alright. To be honest, I don't really fancy Aberforth's Butterbeer all that much."

As he had feared, Ginny did end up punching Harry, hard, in the arm, but she also hugged and kissed him. She gave her brother two punches and did _not_ hug him, berating him for not at least writing to her and giving her a hint that she would be seeing him soon.

Hermione was disgruntled that Harry had not warned her about Ron being there. And he wasn't alone. Lavender had come along, too, clinging to his arm with an air of confidence and, unless Hermione was imagining it, smugness.

While things were warm between both Harry and Hermione, things were definitely on the cooler side with her concerning Ron and Lavender. Hermione hugged Harry, who thanked her for keeping everything a surprise, and she playfully nagged him for not writing her longer letters, which provoked a giggle from Ginny and an eye-roll from Ron. Hermione said hello to the red-head and his girlfriend, but didn't hug them or shake their hands.

Ever since the war ended it had become much easier for Hermione to distance herself from her once-best friend and love interest. And while she knew Ron did harbor feelings for her, he was the one who had first admitted that they wouldn't make a good couple. This mature realization on his part impressed Hermione, but also brought on her own realization that, if they weren't going to be a couple, she couldn't be his best friend anymore, either. It just hurt too much. And there wasn't anything she could do about that, no matter how hard she tried. She was happy that he was happy with Lavender, but she was slightly bitter as well and knew that only the passing of time would help the bitterness dissolve.

It had been Ron who had saved Lavender from Fenrir Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts. While Hermione and Harry had thought her dead, Ron would not give up. He fought off Greyback single-handedly and then took Lavender to the make-shift infirmary in the Great Hall, where he helped Madam Pomfrey and Pavarti Patil treat her. With their combined efforts, Lavender was saved, but she, like Bill Weasley, had been poisoned forever by the werewolf. From what Hermione understood through conversations she had with Ginny, Ron and Lavender were now very close with Bill and Fleur, which Hermione knew made perfect sense. Ron's actions had brought him and Lavender closer together than they had ever been, and both the war and her attack had resulted in Lavender changing from the once love-struck, possessive puppy, to a more mature and refined woman, who doted on Ron in ways Hermione could never see herself doing, but in ways that Ron clearly enjoyed.

Although things were slightly awkward between the group of friends, and Neville and Luna didn't help in the matter (especially when Luna said, quite unabashedly, "Oh, Ron, Lavender makes so much more sense than Hermione" while Neville just blushed), they all settled in at a table together and tried to pick up where things had left off. They ordered drinks—Hermione ordering her first ever Gigglewater, which tasted delicious but resulted in the first of many small, embarrassing outbursts—and began talking about what Harry and Ron were up to at the Ministry and how things were going on that front.

As the night progressed, however, and as the three couples around her became relaxed and more outwardly affectionate with one another, Hermione began to feel the need to try a stronger drink, even though she had already had three Gigglewaters and a Butterbeer. Ordering a Firewhiskey, she ignored the raised eyebrows of both Ginny and Harry and did her best to ignore Ron and Lavender, who were whispering in each other's ears and laughing. Even Neville and Luna seemed to be melting into each other's arms and Hermione felt herself grow uneasy with loneliness.

Finally, when she was on her third Firewhiskey, and when Ron and Lavender started kissing, she leaned over and whispered to Ginny that she was going to head back up to the castle.

"Are you sure?" Ginny whispered back.

"We were thinking of leaving soon, Hermione," Neville piped up. "As soon as Luna's finished her Nettlewine."

"That's alright, I'd like to walk back up by myself." Hermione leaned over and gave Ginny and hug and Harry squeezed her hand, but they both looked at her with puzzled expressions. She considered telling Ginny later how she was feeling but knew that now was absolutely not the right time. "I'm fine, just tired," she assured her friends. "Harry, it was great to see you," she whispered. Luckily Ron and Lavender were busy necking and didn't notice that she was leaving, so she didn't have to endure an awkward goodbye.

By the time she took the last two gulps of her Firewhiskey, Harry and Ginny and Neville and Luna had gone back to what they had been talking about before. When Hermione realized she couldn't remember what the topic had been, and took their disinterest in her as a sign that it was definitely time for her to leave, she ignored the queasy feeling in her gut and stood up to go.

By the time she made it through the throngs of people still in the bar and reached the door, Hermione realized that her head was buzzing from all the alcohol she had consumed. She hadn't really realized what effect it would have on her. _Too late to turn back now_ , she thought, and found that she was smirking to herself. If her friends wanted to ignore her for their significant others, even though she had been the one to help The Boy Who Saved Bloody Everyone set up the little rendezvous in the first place, then so be it. She would find some place where she was actually wanted.

For the briefest of moments, her thoughts swam back up to the castle, envisioning what her potions professor was doing at this very moment. Their lessons had been going well, they had even spent time talking with one another about menial subjects like newly discovered potion ingredients and their uses, or the going-ons of the Ministry, or the books they had both read and enjoyed…or not enjoyed. While the dark professor wasn't an open book by any means, he was certainly behaving kinder towards Hermione than he ever had in the past—and kinder than she had thought him capable of on a day to day basis.

Shaking her head as if to clear it, she broke out of the warm pub and stepped outside. However, the biting air did not relieve her of her drunkenness and, at almost ten o'clock at night, she found herself stumbling out into the deserted and quiet main road of Hogsmeade.

Without any warning, Hermione felt herself being pulled into a warm embrace. For one confusing moment she had thought, maybe, it was Professor Snape, but when she looked up at her unexpected companion her eyes found hazel green irises staring down at her accompanied by a dazzling smile.

"Hello, Hermione," Blaise whispered.

And then his lips were descending on hers with a passion she was not at all prepared for.

But then she was kissing him back.

And it felt…good.

 _Bloody hell_ , she thought to herself as they continued to kiss. _I'm snogging Zabini!_

Their passionate kiss finally broke as she pulled back for air. If her head had been buzzing before, it was practically spinning now. But she felt warm and toasty all over. Her heart was pounding and her cheeks were burning from embarrassment and Firewhiskey, but the look on Blaise's face soothed her.

"I would love to walk you back to the castle," he murmured.

She was breathless, but managed to say, "Yes, I am quite cold."

"And lonely," he added. "But I can help solve both of those problems." He gave her a cheeky grin, swooped down and lifted her off her feet and into his arms.

.Beat.

To say that Severus was shocked when he saw Blaise Zabini carrying a giggling Hermione Granger up to the seventh floor would have been an understatement. The Gryffindor's hair was swinging wildly behind her and her legs were flitting up and down in a playful manner. He had never before seen the girl so pink in the face, so imprudent, so… unlike herself.

Staying out of sight of the outrageous pair but keeping them both in his own line of sight, he quickly deduced that, at the hour it was, and knowing they had both just come back from Hogsmeade, and that both were of-age, they were most likely tossed. At least, Granger seemed to be acting impaired. But she also seemed… happy. Severus was only well acquainted with those who behaved angrily and violently when drunk, as the professors he spent time around generally didn't indulge enough to be moved to drunkenness, so he was unfamiliar with the blissful happiness that could come from alcohol. Yet Miss Granger seemed to encompass blissfulness and pure joy as she tilted her head back and let out another giggle as Blaise kissed her nose in both a playful and intimate manner. The professor felt his cheeks burn, but not because of the intimate show of affection…but because of _who_ the affection was shown towards.

Pushing aside what he knew to be an entirely irrational emotion, Severus turned away from the couple and continued on his way down to the fifth floor where he had been headed before spotting the two returning seventh-year students. However, just as he was about to descend the staircase that had moved to meet him, he fully realized the ridiculousness of the situation.

Hermione Granger, one of the heroines of the wizarding world, and a Muggle-born, and Blaise Zabini, a known prejudiced and hard-hearted Slytherin… _together_?

Out of all his Slytherin upper-year students, Blaise Zabini had been the most reluctant and resentful when Severus had announced to them, as their newly-reinstated Head of House, that he would no longer tolerate bullying of any kind, and also expected more inter-House friendships. While he did admit that this task would be especially difficult with Gryffindor students, he stressed at how important it was to begin to change the stereotypes that surrounded the Slytherin House. While many of the students seemed genuinely inspired and moved by his suggestion and seemed to be taking his terms seriously (although he himself in the past had only shown grudges and contempt towards the other houses, especially Gryffindor), a select few were not at all impressed. Blaise, particularly, scowled and showed no interest in forming inter-House friendships. This hadn't bothered Severus much since it was Blaise's last year and he wouldn't be in the Slytherin common room to inflict his peer pressure onto younger students. He instead focused his concern on the younger students who still seemed prejudiced.

Mulling over all of his thoughts quickly, Severus suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up as concern and suspicion flared inside him. Turning back and heading to the stairs that would lead him to the seventh floor, he made for the private student rooms. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest as his fears, whether they be paranoid or instinctive, continued to rise.

In a few minutes he was walking down the corridor that would lead him to the warded rooms for the returning seventh-year students. He walked down to Granger's room and knocked lightly on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked louder.

There was a terrified yell behind him and he spun, whipping out his wand in the same, fluid movement.

He was facing the closed door of Blaise Zabini. From behind it he could hear what sounded like large objects thudding to the floor.

"Stupid bitch!"

Zabini's shout seemed to shoot right into the potions master like a stunning spell.

"Blaesus!" Severus shouted, raising his wand as the room's wards released. He blasted the door open wordlessly and his eyes immediately fell on two figures in the room.

Zabini, with his wand out and his trousers pooled down by his legs, towered over a terrified and crying Granger, her hands bound behind her back by use of the _Incarcerous_ spell. Her skirt and leggings had been ripped, exposing her knickers. Her eyes were wild and red; her hair a mess of tangles.

Taking all of this in before Zabini even had time to turn and point his wand at the intruder, Severus non-verbally cast the full-body binding curse and sent his Slytherin student crashing to the floor like a ton of bricks. Although the potions professor wanted to hex his student into oblivion, he knew he needed to attend to Miss Granger. Just as he knelt beside her a voice came from out in the hallway.

"What's going on?"

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Ernest Macmillan were standing in the doorway. As Severus's eyes traveled to their faces he could see the horrible sight in front of them reflected in their gazes and watched as understanding began to dawn on their faces.

"Don't just stand there!" Severus snapped. "Longbottom, get Madam Pomfrey; Miss Lovegood, fetch Professor Weasley. And Macmillan, find the headmistress, immediately!" When the three students seemed petrified, he snarled, "Have you all be confunded?! GO!"

His deep, commanding voice seemed to shake them out of their frozen states and the three students ran out of the hallway.

Severus turned back to the sobbing Gryffindor below him. He released her bonds and had her covered with a blanket in two swift flicks of his wand.

"The matron will be here soon to treat you, please try to remain calm until then." Severus tried to say this as kindly as possible, but he felt on fire with fury. He saw the horrified witch's eyes dart to her right and his eyes followed her gaze to the petrified student only a few feet away from them. Severus snarled angrily, startling even himself and causing the scared student to flinch. He rested his hand on her arm to calm her and she jerked away while continuing to sob uncontrollably.

 _Damn_ , he cursed at himself. _Of course she wouldn't want to be touched by me. She was almost just raped by a student from my own House, for fucking Merlin's sake._

"Miss Granger, would it serve better to have you moved to your own room and away from this piece of filth?" he found himself asking her, the disgust clear in his tone. He was unsure of how else to help her. There wasn't much he could do until Poppy arrived.

Fortunately, the young girl nodded, but continued to sob. She reached out and attempted to steady herself so that she could stand, but her legs were shaking like pudding. There were bright red marks around her wrist where the ropes Zabini had conjured had dug into her skin.

 _Blasted bastard_! Severus thought to himself, again fantasizing about inflicting pain on Zabini for what he had done.

However, when the Gryffindor couldn't get to her feet without stumbling, Severus reached for her again, forcing himself to ignore her sharp intake of breath at his touch. "I will _not_ hurt you, Hermione," he whispered to her as gently as he could manage. "Will you allow me to help you to your room, please?"

Avoiding his eyes, she nodded, tears still flowing freely down her cheeks and onto the blanket she had gripped tightly around her. Holding her by her right arm, Severus guided her into the hallway and across to her room, allowing her to put as much weight on him as she needed.

"Brave," Severus whispered and then used his wand again to open her room's door wide enough so they could both enter. He situated her onto her bed and when he was sure she was stable, he straightened and made towards the door.

But he felt her small hand close around his wrist. One look into her puffy, red eyes told him that she wanted him to stay.

So he did.

A/N: And here's the conflict I hinted at earlier. What do you guys think of this chapter and the new events that have just unfolded? Hopefully I didn't cause anyone distress. I hate writing scenes like that, so I tried to make it as short and as painless as possible. Please, please, tell me what you think! And thank you, always, for the comments/critiques, faves and follows!


	9. Chapter 9 - La Sicurezza (Security)

Chapter 9

La Sicurezza

(Security)

Hermione awoke slowly, finding it difficult to open her eyes. They still felt puffy and sore. Everything felt sore. She could tell that she was lying on something soft, with what felt like a blanket resting over her. It was as she felt the soft blanket that the memories of what had happened came rushing back like bolt of lightning.

She bolted upright, feeling a tidal wave of fear and nausea crash through her. She immediately reached for her wand, which had been, amazingly, resting next to the couch she was lying on. She didn't recognize anything around her as she peered around the room. Her eyes found a small table near the couch, bookshelves that adorned the walls, and a fireplace with two chairs stationed in front of it. In one of those chairs was the shape of a man.

Jumping to her feet, she pointed her wand towards the figure and shouted, "Where am I?!"

The man stirred suddenly, lowering the book he had been holding and turning to look at her. When she made out his pale face and dark eyes, the hand gripping her wand dropped and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Miss Granger," his calm, soothing voice spoke to her as it had done in the music room and Hospital Wing. "I'm glad to see you're awake. Do I dare even ask where you thought you were, or who you were with?"

She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. "My memories seem jumbled. For a moment, I thought I had been…"

"Kidnapped? Abducted?" he asked, laying the book down on a small desk next to his chair and getting to his feet. He flicked his wand and two lamps ignited, allowing more light to illuminate the room.

Hermione squinted for a few seconds, allowing herself to become accustomed to the new brightness of her surroundings. "Well, yes, but now I'm beginning to remember…" and suddenly she saw Zabini's face, his cruel eyes narrowed into slits and his buckthorn wand pointing into her chest. Sucking in a shallow breath, she felt herself begin to sway.

Her professor was at her side in a few long, quick strides. He held her by her arms and gently guided her back onto the couch. "You need rest. Sit here and drink this." With another flick of his wand he had conjured a small glass with a turquoise-blue liquid inside.

"Draught of Peace?" she asked, tentatively taking the glass from him.

"Yes. It will help relax you while you recall the events of last night," he explained, still keeping his voice calm and soothing.

Taking a sip of the potion and immediately feeling it begin to take effect, she looked around and asked, "Where am I?"

Her professor brought the chair he had been sitting in moments before to rest across from the couch and then slowly brought himself to sit down. He surveyed her face for a few moments, as if debating what to tell her. She noticed he didn't sit far from her, probably in case she became wobbly again, but she appreciated his closeness.

"You're in my private chambers," he finally answered, never taking his eyes from her face. "My private sitting room, to be exact."

She felt her eyes widen and she continued to gaze around the room, momentarily speechless. His private chambers? What in Merlin's name had provoked him to bring her here? "I don't—"

"How much of last night do you remember, Miss Granger?" he interrupted.

"I… I remember the Three Broomsticks. I remember Za-Zabini. I remember him inviting me into his room. I remember him…attacking me. Then I remember you…" she brought her eyes to his slowly and saw the events of earlier replay in her mind; the door to Zabini's room crashing open and her professor's form filling the doorway. "I remember that you… saved me. Thank you so much, Professor. I—"

He cut her off again with the wave of his hand. "It is my job to protect all students in this school."

His brisk and dismissive tone caused her stomach to clench. Not only that, but she felt so ashamed. She had never needed protecting before. She had always been the one helping to protect others. And now she had suddenly become a student who the professors felt the need to protect? Had she truly become that helpless?

"I'm so sorry…" Hermione found herself gasping, suddenly feeling tears begin to well up in her eyes. She should have been more careful. She shouldn't have had so much to drink. She should have stayed with her friends. She should never have gone into Zabini's room. "I should never have—"

"No, Miss Granger, it is I who should apologize."

She jerked her head up and stared at him. He hadn't done anything to warrant an apology. He had saved her before Zabini could… she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.

"I had seen you and Zabini ascending the staircase to the seventh floor. I should have immediately pursued, knowing that Zabini would never have entertained the idea of being with you. He is a dogmatist through and through, unfortunately. Instead, I had hesitated, and had even turned away, before finally the absurdity of the situation hit me. But still, if I had not faltered… I could have been to you so much sooner."

Hermione shook her head. "That isn't your fault. It's my fault. I should never have trusted him. He had been acting strangely towards me since the first night back. If anything, as he is your student, I should have approached you about him. But I didn't think… oh god, that's just it, I allowed my guard to come down. Being back at Hogwarts made me feel like I was safe… and I'm clearly not." More tears welled up in her eyes at the realization of how idiotic she had been. And now she was afraid to even walk back out into the regular hallways of the school. What if there were others who would follow in Blaise Zabini's footsteps? Ginny had been right. He hadn't been interested in a friendship with Hermione. He had been interested in _hurting_ her. She felt her breathing begin to quicken and her face begin to tingle at the thought of other students wishing to attack her, or worse, the thought of others wishing to attack her friends. Would she just be the first victim in a long line of carefully-planned attacks from within Hogwarts?

Once again, Professor Snape was at her side, bending down in a crouched position to better look her in the eyes. "Miss Granger, calm your breathing or you will go into shock. Please, steady yourself and finish the potion. I need you to remain calm and finish telling me what you remember from last night."

Encouraged by his presence and his gentle coaxing, she managed to gulp down the rest of the Draught of Peace and control her short, quick breaths until they became deep and calm. She opened her eyes, not even realizing she had closed them, and found his jet-black irises staring into hers deeply. "I remember that you came. And then Neville and… oh, Merlin…" she trailed off, her expression suddenly becoming pained.

"Never mind Longbottom, Lovegood and Macmillan. What happened next?" he pushed her to continue, but not without tenderness.

Swallowing back more tears, brought on by utter embarrassment, she continued, "They left on your orders and you gave me a blanket. You took me into my room and stayed with me until the headmistress and Madam Pomfrey and Molly—Professor Weasley—arrived."

"And then what," he encouraged, nodding.

"Madam Pomfrey gave me the same calming ointment she had done before, and it helped me enough to explain, briefly, what had happened. Then Madam Pomfrey left to retrieve some potions she knew I would need, while you spoke with Professor McGonagall and Professor Weasley. Madam Pomfrey came back after only a few minutes, I think—that's what it felt like, anyway—and gave me Burning Bitterroot Balm for my wrist burns, a Calming Draught to relieve more of my shock and anxiety, and also a Dreamless Sleep potion to use once I wanted to sleep. I remember that you were…you were…" she faltered, unable to find the words to explain how he had been acting.

McGonagall had been alarmed, but immediately began asking all the appropriate questions, while Molly had been aghast and insisted on holding and rubbing Hermione's hands, while Madam Pomfrey had been entirely focused on treating her patient. But Snape… he had been frighteningly furious. More so than the witch had ever seen him in the past. Not even as angry as he had been in her third year upon hearing that Sirius had managed to escape. Back then, he had been thunderous. But this time… magic had seemed to radiate from her professor in a way that she could almost taste, and though he wasn't yelling, he was demanding that he treat his Slytherin student in a means that was equivalent to how the boy had treated Hermione. Headmistress McGonagall had immediately shot him down, stating that now was not the time for brash action and that Mr. Zabini would be confined to his room until the Aurors were informed and could come retrieve him for a proper trial. In the meantime, she would also be informing Ms. Zabini of her son's despicable actions and that he would be sent to the Ministry to await trial.

That was when Snape had lost his temper and had finally shouted, stating that the Slytherin should be sent to Azkaban immediately. McGonagall dropped her tone so that her next words were a calm, but deadly threat, and had said, "Severus, if you do not calm yourself at once then I will have no choice but to ask you to remove yourself." Hermione remembered her headmistress glancing towards her in that moment, but that Snape couldn't seem to bring himself to turn around and look at her. He did, however, let out a long sigh through his nose and cease his raging storm.

"You were… you were willing to hurt Zabini…" Hermione finally spoke aloud.

"He deserves it," her dark professor snarled, standing up abruptly from his position in front of her and returning to sit in his chair.

Hermione felt her head shaking back and forth. "He deserves a trial. But I… I really don't want to have to testify…"

"There are ways you can testify without appearing in front of the court. By letter, for example, or by the presentation of memories, as I had done, which seems the most viable away to provide evidence."

"It's going to be so painful," Hermione found herself whimpering.

"The presentation of memories is not painful at all," her professor argued.

She shook her head. "That's not what I was referring to…" Having other wizards and witches seeing her memories…seeing her in that way. And the news was surely not to stay confined to the court. There had already been three witnesses. She could be the talk of the school right now, whether or not Neville and Luna and Ernie had painted her in a good light, the situation would at least be shared with Ginny, who would immediately inform Ron and Harry and oh, god, she couldn't bear to think…

"No matter how painful, it will need to be done, Miss Granger. Blaise Zabini must not be allowed to receive any punishment except for the one he deserves—a lifetime in Azkaban should serve him well." Her professor's tone was as it had been in her room last night. Dark, furious, cruel… fucking terrifying.

Not wanting to continue to hear him speak in that way, or to think about Zabini and her having to testify, she said, "I don't really remember what happened after I took the entire Calming Draught. How did I end up here?"

"You don't remember asking to come here?" He sounded concerned and when she looked into his eyes she could have sworn she also saw what had to be…nervousness? Anxiety? It was definitely an expression she had never seen on his face before, not even in the music room.

She shook her head. "No, I don't remember. I _asked_ to come here?"

He nodded slowly and sighed deeply, bringing up a hand to run through his hair. This, too, she thought, was uncharacteristic of him. He was usually so…composed. But now, he looked uncomfortable.

"I knew it was an odd request. You must not have been in your right mind when you asked— _insisted_ , rather—that you come here." He muttered this response, not bringing his eyes to her face as they had been before.

"Not in my right mind?" Hermione felt her tone sharpen. "I may not remember asking to come here, but a Calming Draught does _not_ cause delirium or irrational behavior. If I asked to come here, I was completely rational, even if I don't remember making the request."

She watched as the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly, as if he were about to smirk, or smile, probably due to her sudden return to her more normal, stubborn, confident tone. She was relieved, mainly due to the realization that a smirking Snape was much more familiar to her than an uncomfortable, fidgety one.

"When Professor McGonagall said she was going to speak with Zabini and left us, Professor Weasley asked you if you were alright with her leaving to join the headmistress as well. She wanted to interrogate Zabini herself it seemed."

"And you didn't?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Of course I did. However, the headmistress forbade me. Madam Pomfrey insisted—tactfully, I'll give the matron that much—that she wanted me to stay with her and, more importantly, with you." As he said this he continued to avoid her eyes, though the small smirk was still tugging at his mouth. "So, with your consent, Professor Weasley went with the headmistress into the adjacent room and behind closed doors, leaving myself and Madam Pomfrey to tend to you. When the matron suggested you get sleep, you adamantly refused to stay in your room. Neither of us questioned this. But when the matron suggested you sleep in the Hospital Wing, you immediately said no to that, as well, and then very bluntly stated that you did not want to be without me."

His smirk seemed to widen as he made this pronouncement, almost as if he were goading her into arguing she would never say such a thing. Hermione felt her eyes widen again and, instinctively, felt her cheeks begin to burn. "I don't… wow… I really don't remember saying that." _But, of course,_ she thought to herself, _it made perfect sense because—_ she cut her inner thoughts off as she remembered that the professor before her was a highly skilled, possibly one of the best, Legilimens in existence. Dreading the answer to her next question, she asked, "What…what did I say when you and Madam Pomfrey asked _why_ I wanted to stay with you?"

"We didn't," he replied, simply. He leaned back in his chair and she felt him surveying her intently, waiting for her reaction.

"You…wait…neither of you questioned my decision?" She found that extremely hard to believe.

"I can only assume that Madam Pomfrey had been touched at my previously adept consoling skills in the Hospital Wing where it had concerned you previously, and the headmistress, I assume, summed it up as being due to the fact that I was the professor who had come to your aid."

"And what did you think?" she dared to ask.

His eyebrow arched gracefully as he said, smoothly, "I only wanted you to feel safe. If being in my presence, no matter how absurd the idea, made you feel that way, it was the least I could do to offer you a feeling of sanctuary and peace."

She felt that he hadn't really answered her honestly, but she wasn't quite ready to prod him for a better explanation when she herself didn't fully understand why her stricken-self had insisted on being in his company. She had a vague idea, but…again, she cut her thoughts short. That would not be something to analyze while he stared so intently at her. "So…"

"So, after I had agreed to provide you that place of security, you took the Dreamless Sleep potion and I brought you here." He said this simply, but Hermione could tell he was back to feeling slightly uncomfortable. She had invaded his private space. Of course he would feel uncomfortable. Suddenly she felt ashamed for having asked to stay with him. Not only was it an incredibly strange request to make of a professor coming from a student, but it was invading the privacy of one of the most private men she had ever known.

She needed time to analyze her own feelings, yet she was feeling exhausted and overwhelmed. Flashes of the night before kept creeping into the corners of her mind and her body still ached. Putting her head into her hands, not caring if she showed him how exhausted she was, she let out a sigh that pulled her shoulders down and caused her curls to unravel around her hands and face.

-SS-

He watched as she began to give in to the exhaustion she must have been feeling long before now. He was surprised she had kept her composure for this long, in truth. And while he found it both irritating and curious that she didn't remember asking to stay with him, he figured that the memory would come back to her once she had more time to rest. What he was most worried about was that it was now almost five in the morning, yet he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and he had no idea how to proceed. What was he to say to her? How was he to comfort her? At different moments he had imagined holding her, but the thought alone seemed too intimate. He had thought of asking her what she needed, but then realized she probably didn't know. Merlin, it was maddening.

Finally, resorting to the safest possible course of action, he asked, "Is there anything I can get you? Water? Or tea, perhaps? I also have more calming ointment. Madam Pomfrey was sure to supply me with some before bringing you down here." He managed to keep his tone even and his demeanor as collected as possible, given the circumstances.

The witch lifted her head from her hands, her hair falling back to the sides of her face, and he noticed that her eyes were once again red and puffy. But instead of answering his question, she posed one herself.

"Down here? Where in the castle are we, exactly?"

"You truly don't remember coming down here?" he asked her, his surprise barely concealed.

She shook her head.

"Well, I suppose that can be explained by the fact that you had already taken the sleep potion and it takes effect very quickly. Do you remember the room you burst into on the day my potion experiment went wrong?"

She nodded while using her sleeve to wipe away any moisture from her eyes.

"Well, that room leads to other rooms, those being my private chambers. Had you come through the back door in my private lab, you would have entered into this room." He waved his hands in a circle, addressing the room.

"Is there ever a time you _aren't_ in the dungeons?" the Gryffindor asked with a small smirk. "Other than meal times and Quidditch games, of course," she added, cheekily.

He was glad to see that she was feeling better to the point of being able to risk a jab at him. Wanting to keep her from falling back into tears or a panic, he took her taunt in stride and replied, "Not usually. However, the forest is quite welcoming from time to time, as is Professor Sprout's many greenhouses. I do have to collect my potion ingredients sometimes, as you surely must know."

"Oh, I see, so you're either spending your time teaching, eating, or collecting potion ingredients. No wonder you're so grumpy all of the time."

Ignoring her gibe about being, as she put it, 'grumpy', he added to her list. "And reading. I do quite a lot of reading. Unless you didn't notice that three of the four walls that surround you are covered by bookshelves?"

She smiled at him then, her eyes lighting up for the first time since the previous night. "I did notice, actually, and it's beautiful."

He was taken aback by her words. Beautiful was certainly not a way he had ever chosen to describe his sitting room. Or maybe she was just simply referring to the books. She was, he knew, a bookworm who spent half of her time in the library.

"Should I be fearing for my books, Miss Granger? I hope you don't plan on diving into my personal library." Although, as soon as he mentioned it, the thought of her pulling a book from his shelf and curling back up on his couch to read flooded his mind and he felt overwhelmed with a sense of tranquility. Gently pushing that image, along with the unnerving feeling it had provoked, to the side, for it surely could never happen, he continued before she could answer his question, "In all seriousness, we need to continue discussing the matter at hand."

"Books? Your personal library? Your lack of socialization?" She was still smiling, but there was a gravity to her gaze that hadn't been there moments before.

"I know you'd rather not continue to speak of what happened to you, but the headmistress made it clear to me that we need to discuss how to proceed from here. She completely understands if you would like to take a break from your studies for—"

"No!"

Her sudden shout jolted him for split second, but he instantly regained his composure. "No? You would like to continue with your studies, which means going to your classes and having private lessons with me, all of that with no time to recover?"

"I… I don't want things to be different. If everything is different, the attack will seem more…present. I would much rather…move on. Have things go back to normal."

"Miss Granger, surely you know that would not be a healthy way to approach this situation," he replied, trying to keep his tone soft even though he instinctively wanted to be commanding with her about this point. He, of all people, knew that the avoidance of reality was more damaging than to face it head on.

"Well…if not avoid what happened to me…at least find a way to maintain some normalcy. I came back to school with the intention of coming back to something familiar and pleasant—to enjoy something normal. I was barely even given that chance before…this happened." She stared down at her knees, a forlorn expression on her face.

"Might I make a suggestion?"

She lifted her eyes to him and nodded.

"Why don't you go about this slowly? Today is Sunday. You can meet with Professor Weasley and Professor Hagrid, as I know you are close with both, and you can also seek out advice from Madam Pomfrey. If you don't want to be out in public just now, as we both know that this incident will hardly be kept a secret, you may choose to stay in the Hospital Wing until—"

"I don't want to stay in the Hospital Wing," she interrupted.

He felt his eyebrow raise. "Then your private room?" he suggested.

"Absolutely not. I—" but this time she cut herself off. He watched her closely and realized that she looked nervous, and afraid. "I never want to set foot anywhere near… _that room_ …again."

He knew without asking that it was not to her room she was referring. But he was at a loss. If she didn't want to stay in the Hospital Wing, nor her own room, where in Hogwarts did the young witch intend to sleep? "You aren't insinuating that you leave Hogwarts, are you?" He barely managed to keep the shock, and dread, out of his tone. He had come to look forward to their private lessons together, while he would never admit it aloud, and he could not imagine someone as smart or as talented as Miss Granger to abandon her education. But that wouldn't make sense, as the witch had just adamantly exclaimed at wanting to continue her education as if nothing awful had happened to her.

The fear from her expression had faded, but the nervousness stayed, and he watched, bewildered, as her cheeks flared crimson. "No. I… I definitely do not want to leave Hogwarts. I…was hoping there was…somewhere else…I could…sleep."

He felt utterly confused. She had to have known that the castle wouldn't allow more rooms to be built in the Gryffindor common room. Was she suggesting that they build a new room somewhere else in the castle, especially for her? Unless…

"Are you implying that you'd like to room with one of your professors? Professor Weasley, perhaps?"

Her blush deepened. He could suddenly feel his heart begin to speed up. _What in the name of Merlin was this girl…?_

"I was actually hoping I could stay here, with you."

Her words, which had poured out like a rushing waterfall, now seemed to suspend themselves in the air between them, like a crackling bolt of lightning. If not for her pleading look of bashfulness and the way his heart had jumped into his throat, Severus might have thought he had imagined her words. The deafening silence continued as they both stared at each other. The popping of the smoldering wood in the fireplace was all that could be heard. It seemed as if they both were holding their breath.

He knew he had to speak. Not to do so would reveal the upheaval his stomach, and brain, were experiencing. Dislodging his heart from his throat, he croaked out, "That would be entirely inappropriate."

"Why?" her question of an answer was swift, like a knife to his gut. It was as if she had prepared for his response. Which, knowing her, she probably had.

"Miss Granger…" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

She interrupted him again. "Do you have a better idea?"

"It is not up to me to find a better solution. This is something you should discuss with the headmistress, as I have no say in the matter of where you can sleep if not in your own room. I'm sure the headmistress, or even your friends, could help you think of a solution. But staying here," he was about to say 'with me' but couldn't bring himself to utter the words, "is absolutely, undoubtedly out of the question. It would be one thing if you wanted to visit my private sitting room if you felt afraid, but to take up residence here is not at all appropriate. I know you know that."

She dropped her eyes to the floor and gave a small sigh. "I know why it's inappropriate. But I'm nineteen for Merlin's sake. I'm an adult."

"And a student," he hastened to add, not wanting his thoughts to linger on the fact that she was, clearly, not a little girl anymore.

"And a student taking up residence with a professor is not appropriate…" she mumbled.

"Not necessarily," he found himself correcting. When she brought her head up to look at him with a puzzled expression he explained, "There have been times, in the past, when a student has taken up temporary residence with a professor; such as a student whose parent is a professor at the school."

"Well, that's unhelpful, as you're not my parent." She made a disgruntled face of disgust.

"Though I'm old enough to be," he replied, darkly. A thought that was _not at all_ just now occurring to him.

"That has always seemed a beside the point fact. Whenever Harry, Ron and I spent time around Remus and Sirius, even though I knew they were, technically, old enough to be our parents, I never thought of them that way. I always saw them more as…I don't know. Younger? And you were in the same year as them, so you can't be over forty."

"Lupin, and especially Black, were juvenile and, at times, senseless. I take great offence to you comparing me to them." He glared openly at her, but she didn't seem phased.

"I disagree with you. But, regardless, that's hardly the point on either matter. Concerning where I should sleep, though, as I'm not related to any of the professors here—"

"An exception might be made for Professor Weasley. McGonagall knows that you have stayed at the Weasley's home almost every year since you came to Hogwarts. That may be an option for you to pursue." When she didn't reply, he folded his hands together and set them in his lap, letting his glare soften. "You should get some more sleep, Miss Granger. After that, you can meet with the headmistress and let her know your feelings on the matter. I daresay she will be able to find a solution better than I."

"I…alright. But…" she seemed to be struggling with her words, and her cheeks were again flushed. "Just so you know… I really appreciate you letting me stay here, even if it's just for this morning…"

He slowly, casually, set each of his arms on the arm rests of his chair.

"I know you've probably already realized this," she continued, "but I feel safe when you're around. Safer than I feel with most people right now. So, again, thank you." She may have been blushing, but she was also making this admission in a very matter-of-fact way, keeping her eyes trained on his face in a more confident manner than he had seen her use previously. He realized that it was important to her to let him know how she felt, and how grateful she was.

His palms were pressed deeply into the squared edge of his chair's arm rests.

He didn't want to make the effort of responding, so instead he flicked his right index finger and summoned the book he had been reading before she had awoke. Pointedly avoiding her gaze, he proceeded to open the book, intending to continue from where he had left off. However, he found his thoughts wandering from the words on the page to the bushy-haired student who had reclined back onto the couch, closed her eyes, and was slowly drifting back to sleep.

A/N: You guys. She's in His. Private. Sitting. Room. There's no way she's getting out of there without one of them breaking down and expressing their growing affection for the other... right? As always, thank you for the comments/critiques, faves and follows! Also, at the request of a guest, I have changed the POV breaks. So now they are -SS- and -HG- instead of .Beat.. Hopefully that doesn't confuse anyone!


	10. Chapter 10 - Winky

Chapter 10

Winky

Severus was jolted awake by something softly gripping his shoulder. Jerking up in his armchair and drawing out his wand in the same movement, he realized that he was aiming his wand right at Miss Granger's heart.

She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes filled with surprise.

At once, he lowered his wand and prepared himself for her to go into a panic. Surely the sudden pointing of a weapon at her, albeit out of defense, would remind her of having been attacked by Zabini. "Miss Granger, forgive me," he began.

She let out a long sigh and her eyelids fell, her body beginning to relax. "That's alright, Sir. I should have known that my touch would have startled you."

"Are you alright? I hope I didn't cause you to think of—"

She cut him off before he could finish, shaking her head. "You didn't. His wand looks nothing like yours. And I know you'd never hurt me."

 _Intentionally_ , Severus found himself muttering to himself, silently.

An awkward hush fell between them, though he was pleased to hear he had not reminded her of his disgusting student.

"I guess we both dozed off," she finally said, breaking the stillness that seemed thick in the room.

"It would seem so," he replied, arching his back and feeling it crack. It had been a good few months since he had fallen asleep in his sitting room's chair. Due to having very little reasons to stay awake until the early morning hours, he had found himself sleeping in his bed more within the past month than in the last four years. While he had been acting as a spy he needed to be ready to be summoned by Voldemort, or Dumbledore, at any moment of the day, which resulted in very little time for sleep. And then, as temporary headmaster, he never seemed to make it to his bed. He was always too anxious, too high-strung, too paranoid. The plan could fail at any moment. Potter could be caught and killed. Severus would have to continue to live in the hell that was Voldemort. He would, finally, succumb to sleep brought on by absolute exhaustion, usually slumped uncomfortably in his armchair or on his couch.

He glanced up at the grandfather clock above the fireplace. "I suppose we should prepare for breakfast."

He noticed that the Gryffindor tensed at his suggestion. Feeling tactless, he realized she probably wasn't prepared to face a majority of the student body. Luckily, as it was a Sunday, she wasn't required to eat in the Great Hall. "If it would put you at ease, I could send for a house elf so that you may have breakfast here."

Continuing to avoid his gaze, she nodded, then seated herself once more on the couch where she had previously been sleeping. She looked uncomfortable, he realized, yet it could not be due to the couch itself, as it was rather spacious and cozy around her small frame. He took this to mean that she was beginning to feel uneasy about where she found herself—in his private sitting room—as he had expected her to feel once she began to fully realize the strangeness of the situation.

"If there is a problem..." he began slowly.

"I just don't know what to do."

The vagueness of her statement irritated him, but he remained calm, as he had learned to do so well ever since taking on his role as a spy. "Could you...elaborate?" he pressed.

Her cheeks reddened. "Well, I want to stay here, but I don't want to be any more of a burden than I already am, and also, these are all of your things..." She faltered, then seemed to break off that train of thought and said instead, "You didn't ask for me to be here. Your privacy is, I know, so crucial to you. I don't know what to do now that I'm awake. I don't want you angry or aggravated with me, so I feel like I should find somewhere else to be, but I am so scared of stepping back into the main parts of the school. I know it's irrational, and that I'm not likely to be attacked walking through the halls in broad daylight, but... I can't shake off this feeling. And what will others say when they see me?" She pulled in a deep breath, her shoulders heaving noticeably. She glanced around his room, still dodging his eyes. "And while I'd love to just curl up and read until I feel better, none of my things are here, and I—"

"Don't want to ask my permission to browse through my collection?" he finished, phrasing it as a query.

She nodded, solemnly.

"Afraid of what you might find on those shelves, Miss Granger?" He couldn't prevent the dark and snarky tone from escaping. It was just too easy sometimes, especially with Gryffindors, and she was no exception. He had heard the rumors, of course. Rumors from many students that he kept the most dangerous and gruesome dark arts books in his private collection.

Surprisingly, she let out a giggle. Looking up at him and meeting his gaze for the first time since she had woken him, she replied, "'Afraid' is _definitely not_ the right word, Professor."

He couldn't altogether keep the shocked expression from forming on his face but was able to replace it quickly with his well-practiced smirk. "Is that so? And what word would you choose?"

She rolled her eyes and they landed on the bookshelf nearest her. "Intrigued, interested…excited, enticed… longing, craving… Those are much better words to describe how I feel when looking at your bookshelves."

When she had said 'excited' and 'enticed' he couldn't help but feel a warm sensation spread through his stomach and abdomen. Luckily, she was still looking away from him and didn't see the momentary lapse of facial control that occurred. When she had turned back, gifting him with a small smile, his face was completely impassive, and his thoughts, just barely, back under his control.

"Well, perhaps we could see about bringing some of your belongings here, so you can use them while you wait to meet with the headmistress? Surely you have studying to do."

Her smile faltered at his obvious avoidance of her desire to peruse his bookshelves, but he continued to watch her with his impassive expression. To his quiet amusement, she shrugged and said, "That would be nice. How will I fetch my things?" She was terrible at acting, but he would do away with a sneer this time.

"The house elf that I summon for breakfast can also bring the belongings you think you'll need while you wait here. Since you shouldn't have to wait too long to meet with Professor McGonagall, why don't we just fetch your school books and necessary items you need to study and, perhaps, a change of clothes, as you are still in the ones from last night."

She flushed.

He looked away and snapped his fingers twice in quick succession. The little house elf who had been bonded to him at the beginning of the term appeared with a loud _crack!_ and bowed her little head low in greeting. Lifting up her head she squeaked, "Professor Snape has requested—"

The Gryffindor's gasp was so loud it cut off the small elf's announcement.

-HG-

"Winky!"

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. She was staring at the house elf she had first met in her fourth year of Hogwarts who had been dismissed by her previous master and sent to work at the school. Everything about her looked the same—large, floppy, bat-like ears with a tomato-sized nose, and big, watery brown eyes, and even the same skirt and blouse and blue hat.

At Hermione's gasp of shock, Winky had turned her enormous brown eyes onto Hermione and a look of frightened surprise befell the little elf's face.

"It would seem you two are already acquainted." Her professor sounded genuinely interested.

Hermione felt herself nodding as she smiled kindly at the house elf who had never liked her. Whether or not Winky's feelings toward her had changed, seeing the elf brought a rush of emotions into Hermione's chest. Happiness and relief that the elf had survived the battle, amazement that out of all the elves who worked at the school she was the one Snape had summoned, and sadness that it still seemed like Winky was not taking care of herself as she should be.

"I met Winky in my fourth year," she told her professor. Then she tentatively approached the small creature, knelt down, and proceeded to peer into her protuberant eyes. "Winky, do you remember me?"

Winky nodded but didn't make a sound. Hermione was afraid that Snape might snap at the elf for not showing more respect, but unexpectedly, he remained silent and only watched their interaction.

"I know you've never liked me. I know you disagree with me on many topics of elf treatment and welfare, and I know you still miss your previous master…" at this the elf's eyes grew larger still and became moist. "But," Hermione continued quickly, not wanting the elf to burst into tears, "I just want you to know that I understand now what's like to lose someone close to you. Someone you've known your entire life. Someone who is family. And I also want you to know that I'm so relieved—so happy—that you survived the battle."

The stillness in the room after Hermione's short speech lasted for a few, long moments, as the witch and the elf held each other's gazes intensely. Luckily, it was interrupted gently by her professor.

"Winky?"

As if poked with a hot iron rod, Winky jumped and spun to face Snape. "I is so sorry, Professor Snape! What is it that Wi-Winky can do for you?" Her eyes flickered nervously back to Hermione before locking back onto the professor and staying there, patiently waiting for his instruction.

"Miss Granger and I wish to have breakfast in my quarters as opposed to the Great Hall. We would like you to go to the kitchens and bring up a dish for each of us."

"Yes, Sir, of course, Winky can do that."

"Very well. In addition, Miss Granger needs her school supplies and a new set of clothes from her room to be brought here while she remains for the next few hours. Would you, please, be able to fetch those things and bring them here?"

Hermione's heart lurched at her professor's gentle tone and polite words. He did not seem to be, she realized, a wizard who felt entitled to the service of house elves, nor did he treat Winky as if she were inferior to him.

Winky was nodding but looked perturbed. "How will I know what clothes to fetch for the Misses?"

Hermione watched Snape's eyebrow arch and he turned his eyes to rest on her, a smirk crossing his lips. "Perhaps Miss Granger would like to give you a list?"

Blushing, Hermione nodded. Her professor flicked his wand and a piece of parchment, quill, and ink bottle came floating over to where she still sat on the couch. They rested down on the sitting table, so she gracefully slid off the couch and seated herself on the floor, crossing her legs. She dipped his quill into the ink, leaned over the desk and began to write out a list of what items Winky should gather, all the while acutely aware that her professor was watching her. She did her best to describe what each item looked like and where they were located, hoping that he would never lay eyes on the parchment as she had to describe what her underwear and brassier looked like. She wouldn't allow herself to blush as she wrote her detailed list, as she could still feel his eyes on her and did not want to give him reason to pry.

"Are you writing an inventory checklist, Granger? For Merlin's sake, hurry up, I'm hungry," he finally growled just as she was finishing the last item on her list.

"Here Winky," she said, folding the list and handing it to the elf. "And could you please bring up some coffee, extra milk and sugar, with the breakfast, please?"

"Of course, Misses."

Hermione heard Snape let out a huff. "No need to bring the coffee, Winky."

The house elf turned to him. "Yes, Sir."

Hermione gave him a glare.

"I have coffee here, and I guarantee it's better than any house elf coffee," he said right after Winky disappeared with a loud _crack!_ from the sitting room.

"You brew your own coffee?" Hermione asked him, astonished.

"Only in the winter," her professor replied in the same bored drawl he had used in the library on her first day back. "Other times in the year I get my coffee straight from The Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta can brew exceptional coffee as well as Butterbeer."

Hermione found it hard to picture the dark, cool and collected professor sipping on a mug of Butterbeer. The thought brought a smile to her face.

"What's gotten you grinning like an idiot?" he snapped.

Deciding to be honest, she forced out, "You. Drinking Butterbeer?" and when she brought her eyes to his face in time to see his eyebrows shoot up and then immediately furrow together in a scowl she couldn't help herself. She leaned back and let out a loud laugh. And suddenly she couldn't stop. Her sides began to ache, but she couldn't get the ridiculous image of Snape, in all black, bringing a Butterbeer down from his lips and sporting a white foam mustache.

"Miss Granger!" he finally boomed. "Control yourself, please. I dare not think what a student would say if they passed down my corridor and heard your obnoxious, maniacal laughter coming from my chambers."

Stuffing her fist into her mouth to stifle her laughter, her other hand grabbing her stomach, she brought watering eyes back up to her unamused professor where he sat in his stiff-backed chair. He looked as if he was desperately trying to control himself from getting up and shaking her in frustration, or just leaving the room altogether. Which she definitely didn't want him to do. Breathing in a large gulp of air, she forced herself to calm down and cease her laughter. When she finally allowed herself to relax again, she said, "Forgive me, Professor. I have no idea what came over me."

"Could be mild side effects from the Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep potion. You obviously need food." He was still scowling openly at her, but his eyes didn't seem quite as cold and threatening.

"Yes. That must be it," she agreed, though not entirely believing it.

"I have potions I need to work on," Snape said suddenly, rising to his feet and walking towards the far corner bookshelf. "I am going to change and then work in my private potions lab. Meanwhile, you should eat as soon as Winky returns, and change into a new pair of clothes. I expect the headmistress will come fetch you when she, Professor Weasley and Professor Hagird are ready to meet with you."

His abruptness and crisp tone caused Hermione's stomach to churn uncomfortably. Maybe she really had bothered him by laughing so uncontrollably? No. Surely not. Her poised potions professor would never let something that trivial bother him. When he was a teenager, perhaps, but not now. Besides, her opinion of him, she knew, didn't matter that much. Or did it? Possibly… but more than likely he was just tired of the strangeness of their situation and wanted an escape.

Before she could reply, he had pressed his left palm onto the bookshelf and she could only watch, amazed, as he seemed to mold into the books until he had disappeared entirely. _That must be the entrance to his bedroom_ , she thought. And she felt her face redden at the thought of being so close to the reclusive potion master's personal bedroom. Hermione had always known he was a human who, of course, had a bedroom, for he obviously needed somewhere to sleep, and shower, and change clothes, but to be so close to it…felt like an invasion of his privacy even more so than sitting and sleeping on his sitting room's couch.

It was true that she and Harry and Ron had been positive that Snape had been the one trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone back in their first year, only to realize that he been trying to stop Quirrell and also save Harry's life. This mistake of judgement had resulted in Hermione viewing the callous, dark, snarky professor in a new light. He became more mysterious to her than frightening. Yes, he had injured her pride on many occasions, especially in her third and fourth year, but she had never hated him like Harry had, not even when he had murdered Dumbledore. She had thought it probable that he had been threatened by Voldemort and forced against his will to kill the headmaster. But, because she wasn't sure, she wasn't about to let Snape use Phineus—Professor Black—to discover their hide-out while they had been seeking refuge in Grimmauld place the previous year. When it was revealed to the world, through Harry no less, what Snape's memories had showed, well, she had felt more than relieved. She had felt justified in her belief that he was not a bad man. And she had felt proud of him. But she also felt…intrigued.

But she could never imagine telling him that. She wouldn't even know how.

There was a sudden _crack!_ and Winky appeared with a small cart of food, Hermione's books and quills and ink, and a neatly folded set of clothes the witch recognized as her own.

"Winky has brought breakfast for the Misses and Professor Snape, as well as Misses clothes, as she instructed."

"Where is the list I gave you, Winky?"

The house elf reached into her skirt's pocket and drew out the neatly folded list. Handing it, shyly, to Hermione she squeaked, "Winky hopes she retrieved all of the necessary items."

Hermione took the note from the elf's long, thin fingers. Then she looked through the clothing items Winky had brought, being sure to look around the room to confirm it was empty of her professor before she checked which undergarments were folded in between the pants, blouse and sweater. "You did very well, Winky, thank you."

The house elf gave her a small bow and asked, "But where is the professor?"

"He, uh, went to his bedroom, I think."

Winky looked troubled and it seemed like she wanted to say something, but instead she kept her lips pressed together tightly.

"What is it, Winky?"

Slowly, the elf said, "This is the first time Winky has seen the professor with a witch in his room besides the headmistress."

"You've helped Professor Snape before?" Hermione asked, being sure to say 'helped' instead of 'served' because she despised the word.

Winky nodded. "Winky is Professor Snape's now."

Hermione couldn't help but give the elf an open-mouthed expression of shock and horror. "What do you mean, Winky?" But then understanding washed over her in horrible, shocking waves. He may be polite to the elf, but if he had brought her back into slavery then he was no better than the wizards and witches who viewed elves as being inferior creatures. "How could he?" she continued her whine to the elf, who was becoming more distressed with each of her words. "No! You're free, Winky! How can you be his?! You're a free elf!"

But before the small house elf could reply, the witch, who was now becoming quite heated, became aware of the sound of robes swishing lightly from behind her. She spun around to face her professor, ready to berate him for having taken away the elf's freedom.

-SS-

She had spun on him, her wild hair flying, as if she were ready to draw her wand on him and duel. She was scowling at him, her eyes hard and condemning. Seeing those emotions clearly displayed on her face, directed at him, nearly caused him to suck in a pained breath. But the air caught in his lungs as he righted himself, ever the well-practiced spy and actor. He hardened his face in turn, ready for whatever she was about to hurl at him. He could take it, whatever it was. This was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake, not some Death Eater or Dark Lord. He would be able to swat her away as if she were a fly…

He looked from Miss Granger to Winky, then back. "What has happened?" he asked, forcing his tone to come out deep and threatening.

"How could you?!" she spat.

Again with the ambiguity. He loathed it. Turning to Winky, about to dismiss her so she wouldn't have to witness the tsunami that was sure to crash down over him in the voice of Granger, he extracted two galleons from his pocket.

As if he had produced the elixir of life itself, his angry student's eyes grew in shock and her mouth formed a comical O. "Wha—" she stuttered, watching as Winky walked over to him and lifted her hand up towards the gold coins. While Winky took the coins with her head lowered in shame, as she always did, Granger's mouth closed slightly and all previous ferocity had been replaced with what could only be described as embarrassment.

"Thank you, Winky. That will be all for now." He gently patted the elf on her head and then she was gone with a _crack!_ that always accompanied the comings and goings of house elves. He brought his hard gaze back to his student and droned, "Do, go on, Miss Granger. Now that the elf is gone, and her ears spared, do continue accusing me of Merlin-knows-what."

"I—but—you—"

"Stop stuttering and spluttering and get it out or I'm going to leave and get on to something of actual importance," he heard himself growl. He had spent most of the last twenty years listening to students stumble around their words and was growing evermore agitated by the occurrence.

"You're…paying her?"

Although still vague, it began to make sense.

"Ah, yes… your Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Unless I am mistaken, you were preparing to accuse me of stripping away Winky's freedom and putting her back into a bondage of servitude?" He couldn't help but sneer at her. Remembering the flames in her bright brown eyes in the moment she spun on him amused him as much as it irritated him. "So ready to defend the welfare of a creature that was ashamed to be paid—and you, so quick to assume that I, an unfeeling and supercilious man, had quieted the elf's shame by offering her a renewal of servitude, least it benefit me greatly since I am sure to enjoy the ordering about and unfaltering obedience of others?" He let the venom pour out of his mouth—venom he had felt the need to hold back ever since the first day of term. But he let it loose now. If this fiery Gryffindor, insisting she was a fully-fledged adult who could think securely for herself, wanted to face him with flames and the brazenness of a lion, he was prepared to meet her with Slytherin venom and fangs. "So ready to accuse a man of ill-treatment and apathy because he couldn't possibly be willing to reward such a lowly creature for her help; prepared to scold him for his callousness. Believe me, Miss Granger, your accusations mean _nothing_ to me. You think I would care about an angry nineteen-year-old concerned about my treatment of a house elf? You dare to think I would feel ashamed had that same witch's concerns been of any merit? Why would I _waste my time_ when I have been accused of actions you could scarcely fathom—when I have faced torture and death threats of much more powerful witches and wizards than yourself? Oh, Miss Granger. I must regretfully inform you that your opinions _Have._ _No. Value_."

Her face had fallen, and fallen, and fallen more still as he had continued. Tears were bubbling behind her eyes. Her cheeks, which had been crimson, were now as pale as a corpse's.

"Now," Severus hissed, dangerously. "You will get changed, you will eat, and you will study, while you wait in my sitting room for the headmistress to retrieve you." As he gave her these orders he strode over to the cart, grabbed the plate meant for him, and strode towards the door that would lead to his private lab.

When he reached the door, he called back to her, "You will have to forgo coffee. I have no patience to brew some for you." And with that, he retired to the safety, the tranquility, the silence, of his lab.

She would forever be an insufferable know-it-all.

-HG-

What had she thought? That he had truly changed? That his kindness was not just another act of his many masks and facades?

She pulled her blouse over her head, yanking it down in frustration.

Had she truly believed he had felt something like concern and fondness for her?

She pulled her sweater on roughly, turned on the sink in his small bathroom, and splashed water onto her face.

Had she truly deluded herself into feeling something like friendship towards him? To feel like they could be more than professor and student? Why would she do that?

She opened the door and walked over to the plate of eggs, toast and sausage, but couldn't bring herself to touch her food.

He would always be an insufferable git.

A/N: Oh, dear... Hermione and Severus have done it again! As always, thank you for the comments/critiques, faves, follows, and overall continued support!


	11. Chapter 11 - La Foresta (The Forest)

Chapter 11

La Foresta

(The Forest)

Two quick knocks on Severus' door broke through his furious thoughts. Without looking up from his potion he waved his hand and, though wandless, freed the wards to his private lab and opened the door.

"Severus. How is she?" The headmistress had come to retrieve the little lioness at last.

"She's in there." He was barely able to conceal the venom in his voice as he pointed to the door that lead to his sitting room. He could practically feel the headmistress pinning him down with her stare.

"I didn't ask _where_ she was. I asked _how_ she was."

"She seems completely unexceptional to me," he snapped.

There was a pause. Then, "Severus, what happened?"

He didn't answer.

"Severus Snape."

He forced his eyes to meet hers. They were like daggers. "Please, Severus, tell me you did not add to that girl's distress even more."

He felt fury begin to bubble inside him, as if he was the potion he was brewing, held over a flame. "It was her own fault," he hissed.

Without another word, Minerva strode quickly to the door, opened it, and called for her student.  
In a whirlwind of wild brown curls and soft peach sweater, the know-it-all rushed through the doorway, past her headmistress, past Severus and his potion as if they didn't exist, and out into the dungeon corridor. He didn't think he had ever seen the girl move so quickly without running.

Minerva, clearly at a loss for words, could only watch as her student practically flew from the room. Turning to Severus, her stare becoming that of a falcon hunting its prey, she said with a clipped tone, "I will have words with you later." With that, she followed Granger and shut the door to his private lab, leaving him alone in the dark as he had been.

 _She will have words with me later?_ He sneered inwardly. _Fine, so be it._

If the little Gryffindor complained about him that wouldn't be anything new. And he could deal with Minerva chirping away at him so long as it meant Granger would be off his back. He would let Minerva berate him and then explain that the girl had offended his person and he had only reacted in a way he deemed appropriate. If the overly-emotional lioness had taken it too personally that wasn't his fault.

But, he knew… it _was_ his fault. All of it was.

He should have never let the returning seventh-year open up to him...three times. Four, if you counted everything that happened last night until presently. He didn't at all regret putting a stop to Blaise's attack. But he did regret letting her feel a sense of security with him even before that. She claimed to feel safe with him, but yet clearly didn't trust his person, as she immediately assumed the worst of him. He had allowed himself to comfort her, which was not at all what he had ever been known to do before, and had allowed himself to comfort her more than once. The result was this; she, feeling as if they were more than professor and pupil—something akin to friends—and that would not do. It would be better if he just put their relationship back to where it had been in her sixth year. Back then, they hadn't talked about anything but potions and Defence. And he would just need to keep their conversations, if any, strictly to discussions about the lesson at hand or anything pertinent, assuming she wanted to continue her private lessons, which, knowing how stubborn Gryffindors could be, she _would_ want to continue, if at least for her parents. But he would no longer allow her to open up to him about her feelings. No. No more talking about new potion studies, the new changes at the ministry, or anything that did not directly correlate with their lessons. That was what he would do. What he had to do.

Stepping back from the potion to let it simmer, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Immediately the image of Miss Granger, her brown eyes alit with sparks of fire, appeared behind his eyelids. But just as suddenly as they had appeared, her eyes changed. They were no longer angry but filled with joy. She was gifting him with a wide smile. She was chuckling, then giggling, then laughing, her head tilted back and unruly hair bouncing. And then she looked back at him, and her eyes had changed yet again. Now there were tears falling from the smoky topaz irises, the shimmering water sliding off her cheeks and pooling on the soft spot under her chin. She let out the harrowing sob that had frequented his nightmares since the night he had comforted her in the Hospital Wing. A wave of nausea rolled over him like crashing waves.

His eyes snapped open and he realized he had been gripping the edge of his workbench with both hands, causing his already pale knuckles to look stark white under the dim light of the room.

As he forced himself to loosen his grip, he heard her voice echo in the back of his head _"_ _I know you've probably already realized this, but I feel safe when you're around. Safer than I feel with most people right now. So, again, thank you."_

He spun around, black cloak swirling like a tornado, and rammed his fist into the wall. He yelled with the pain, yet his throbbing hand was not enough to petrify the hurt in his heart.

-HG-

"Hermione!" The half-giant pulled the rigid witch roughly into his arms, engulfing her into a smothering embrace. The air from her lungs momentarily rushed out of her as she allowed Hagrid to squeeze her. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"I'm alright, Hagrid, really," Hermione murmured into his giant chest.

He released his hold, but placed his massive hands on her shoulders and peered down into her eyes. "I will never forgive myself for not being there," he spluttered, tears springing into his eyes. "I'm a dead-awful Head of Gryffindor House! I'm so-so sorry, 'ermione." He exploded into a waterfall of sobs.

"Hagrid, don't be ridiculous," McGonagall chided.

"Not one of us was prepared for this," Professor Weasley admitted, solemnly.

Hermione patted Hagrid's arms gently and assured him, "Hagrid, none of this was your fault. If anything, it was mine. And I know that both Professor McGonagall and Professor Weasley are perfectly fine with keeping the Gryffindors tended to in the evenings. Besides, Professor Snape was there…eventually." Her voice faded slightly at the mention of the professor who had caused her head to split and stomach to cramp only a mere hour earlier.

Knowing that the three professors with her in the headmistress's office would need her to recount the events from last night in detail, she resolved to get it over with sooner rather than later. Putting it off would only make it more difficult. Taking in a deep breath as they watched her, she turned to the headmistress and plunged into her recollection of the night before. Not wanting to leave any pertinent information out, she included every interaction she and Blaise had, leading up to the incident in question. She got through the attack painfully, having to take deep, calming breaths, but got through it eventually. She did not, however, go into detail about her roller coaster of a morning with the potions master. She still felt as if she had been wacked by the Whomping Willow.

"Mr. Zabini is currently detained at the Ministry. I've been told his mother arrived there shortly after he had been apprehended by two Aurors last night. They will be holding a trial for him tomorrow afternoon." Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione, gravely.

Hermione's stomach did a flip-flop. "So soon?" She failed to conceal the strain in her voice at the thought of having to attend a trial the very next day.

"If you would like, you would not have to be present at the trial. But, if Mr. Zabini is to receive the consequences we all know he deserves, you do need to present your case, in one way or another," the headmistress prompted gently.

"Pro-professor Snape mentioned something about… turning over my memories? Instead of making an appearance in person…just…sending in my memories for them to view." Even as she spoke, the reality seemed to crush down on her. If she did that…wizards and witches who she didn't even know—or worse still, possibly _did_ know—would be seeing her drunk, vulnerable, and taken advantage of. They would see the brave, intelligent, respectable Hermione Granger who spent the entirety of last year helping Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort, attacked and, therefore, humiliated. Her outstanding reputation would become null and void. She would be nothing more than a childish, naïve, senseless witch.

Noticing her turmoil, Professor Weasley came beside her and wrapped and warm, reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Hermione, dear, it's going to be alright."

But Hermione was shaking her head, hot tears beginning to fall in earnest. "Everyone who sees those memories… they are all going to judge me. They are going to see me as some immature witch who got drunk and put herself into a bad situation."

"That is _not_ what they are going to see, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall argued, her tone stern and irrefutable. "They are going to see a young witch, having fun, whose emotions was toyed with and, while intoxicated, was taken advantage of. They will see that Blaise Zabini was a coward who knew he wouldn't have a chance attacking you if you hadn't been inebriated. That his intention was to take advantage of you in one of the worst, most disgusting ways one human could hurt another. That is what they will see, Miss Granger. This will not be the first case that the court will see of this nature. I myself—" but the older witch stopped herself, seeming to realize she had gone too far, said too much. She pressed her lips together and, if Hermione wasn't mistaken, was holding back a look of shame.

Professor Weasley and Hagrid were completely silent.

But Hermione had to know. "Did… did anyone ever look at you or treat you differently afterwards, Professor?"

Taking in a deep breath through her nose, the headmistress said, carefully, "In cases such as these, the court is sworn by magic not to repeat anything of the case outside of the court room, since some trials can last for weeks or months. Once the trial is concluded and all sentences delivered, every witch and wizard on the case must surrender their memories of the case to the Ministry, where they are then delivered to Unspeakables and taken to the Department of Mysteries. This is done to protect the victims. With the exception of Unspeakables, no one knows what happens with the surrendered memories. The wizards and witches who served on the case no longer have memory of the trial, so they have no reason to think any differently of the witches and/or wizards involved."

It was a minute or two before any of them spoke. Finally, after mulling over everything in her head to make sense of it all, Hermione found herself whispering, "Luna would love to be here right now…"

The three professors looked at her, bemused, and she forced a smile. "I trust you, Professor McGonagall. If my memories won't…taint me…I will, of course, present them to the court. It's just… I've never had my memories extracted before. I'll need someone to teach me."

"That, my dear, I can do." And the headmistress gave the brave Gryffindor student a firm nod.

-SS-

He had needed air. Fresh air. Cool, crisp air.

He thought of heading to the green houses, but since it was a Sunday, he was sure that Pamona would be running around, tending to them and prepping her lessons in each green house for the following day. He was quite familiar with her routine. However, he found he couldn't stand the thought of having to interact with or be around anyone. He would probably hex off the head of anyone, student or staff, who tried speaking to him.

With that in mind, he made his way through the dungeons and out the front doors of the castle and into the biting wind of October. Luckily, he hadn't run into any of the staff on his way out. Three fourth-year Hufflepuffs had been chattering near the front doors but had quickly scurried in the direction of the Great Hall when they saw him coming. He really could look like a giant bat sometimes, and he didn't care. Bat, snake, what did it matter? Plenty of people had disliked him even before he had become the ill-tempered, strict potions professor.

He headed straight to the Dark Forest. It wasn't forbidden to him. There, he was welcome. Not in the same way that Hagrid had been welcome as the game-keeper. Severus was welcomed because he was quiet, respectful, cautious, and calm. He respected the outer edges of the forest as if it was his own garden. He never ventured in too far, as he distrusted the Centaurs, and found that a majority of the potion ingredients he needed on a regular basis could be found along the outer edges of the forest.

Choosing to visit the forest was a wise decision. His head instantly began to clear as his eyes trailed over the ground, the shrubs, the flowers, the moss, the trees. He breathed in deeply and then let it stream out slowly through parted lips. His pent-up anger and frustration released with each new exhale. He was soon able to focus on the important matters that only he could address—that of steps he could take to ensure that what happened to Miss Granger, or anything of a similar nature, would not befall any of the other students at the school. And that meant he would have to start culling out the prejudiced and resentful students in his Slytherin House. The question was… how to go about it.

As he began mulling over different ideas of how he could appeal to his Slytherins—either by coercion, punishment, or kindness (the latter being more of a last resort)—he walked farther along the perimeter of the forest, staying inside of its protective cover, but still close enough to the edge to see the castle. He was still trying to decide on a firm conclusion as to what course of action he should take when he sensed a presence in the forest near him. He stopped walking abruptly and held his breath. Sure enough, he heard the sharp snapping of a twig.

Extracting his wand seamlessly, he ducked behind a tree and strained to hear, listening for more sounds of movement. They came almost immediately. Footsteps on the forest floor. Quiet, but there. Taking in a deep breath, Severus jumped out from behind the tree, wand pointed in the direction he knew the noise to been coming from.

Luna Lovegood. Surrounded by three Thestrals and holding a…was that a kitten?

The odd witch had her hand outstretched and was lightly patting the larger Thestral on its nose. Her long, golden hair was falling down her back in waves, hovering just above her waist. Although he had hardly made a sound, she turned slowly to look at him. Her protuberant, silver-blue eyes immediately met his with a calm expression, as if she had been expecting him.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she welcomed, turning back to face the Thestrals. She was petting the creature with an intimate affection while holding tightly to the young cat in the crook of her other arm.

"Good day, Miss Lovegood." He stowed his wand and relaxed. There weren't many students outside of his own House that he could admit to tolerating, but Miss Lovegood was one of the few. While she was extremely odd, she was so in a refreshing way. And her essays always humored him. While her potion skills could always use improvement and she didn't always follow directions, she was soft-spoken, polite, and peaceful. She had never caused him to lose his temper—become exasperated, maybe, but never aggravated.

Severus was pulled out of his thoughts when the girl asked, gently, "How is Hermione?"

While the mention of Miss Granger may have caused him to feel immediate anger had anyone else mentioned her, he found that the nonchalant way she posed her question, with her back still to him, moving on to the next Thestral and petting it, did not perturb him in the slightest.

However, when he didn't answer right away, she continued, "It was awful… what happened to her. I hope you were able to help her."

"She's with the headmistress and Professor Hagrid and Professor Weasley as we speak," he replied, avoiding both her question and the sudden ache festering in his stomach.

"That's good. I'm glad you were there for her last night. It was like returning the favor."

"I beg your pardon?" Not nearly two minutes into the conversation and she was already confusing him.

Miss Lovegood reached into the bag she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small piece of raw meat, offering it to the smallest of the three Thestrals. Severus had always been interested in the creatures, but had never befriended them. This witch seemed to be able to communicate with them in a way not even Hagrid had managed. He watched as she turned her head to look towards him and saw a small smile playing at her lips.

"Hermione found you the morning the battle ended. She helped you to Madam Pomfrey." He must've been staring darkly at her for she added, "It's not widely known. I just happened to be helping Hannah Abbot and the Patil sisters with Lavender Brown when I saw Hermione and the headmistress and Professor Sprout assist you into the Great Hall."

"And you see my interference last night as a returning favor for Miss Granger's actions?" he found himself smirking. "The girl was only doing what she felt was right. She wasn't being heroic."

Luna seemed unmoved by his dismissive words. "And so were you. You two are paralleled now. Hermione came to your aid when you thought no one would, and then continued to stay by your side until she felt sure you would be spared from death. You came to Hermione's aid when she was surely not expecting anyone would, and then, from what Neville told me, you stayed with her through the night. I am assuming that, since she's well enough to be out of bed, you only left her once you knew she was feeling better."

"Something of that nature," he mumbled. But her words had struck a chord, and had also stirred a memory he had not thought of until now. "You say that she had stayed by my side, the morning the battle ended?"

Miss Lovegood turned towards him fully, setting the kitten down onto the forest floor. Severus expected the Thestrals to come down on it with sharp teeth at once, but found himself mistaken. The kitten confidently strutted over to the youngest Thestral and rubbed its whiskers, cheek and back against the lowered head of the carnivorous beast. The witch must've trained—or communicated, rather—to the Thestrals that the kitten was not prey. _Fascinating…_

"Yes," she replied, seeming unconcerned at the fact that her back was turned to both kitten and Thestral.

 _She must've trained them well_ , he concluded as she continued to gaze at him.

"Do you not remember?" she prompted.

He crossed his arms and frowned. "I recall moments. That is all. I was quite delirious, I'm sure."

Her golden head nodded. "Well, I can assure you that she stayed by your side and tended to you alongside Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, sometimes even taking over completely when they had to rush to the aid of others. When my father came to take me home later in the day, she was still with you, and insisted she wouldn't leave you until she knew you were going to live. Both Harry, Ron and Professor Weasley tried to get her to leave with them, but she adamantly refused."

He had nothing to say to this. He could remember seeing her, bending over him, but her face had been blurry due to the effects of Nagini's venom. He could remember feeling someone grab his hand and squeeze it. Maybe that had been her? Had she stayed with him through the night? An entire day? Surely not. He knew that Poppy had contacted a colleague of hers in America to come and access his situation, being one of the best medi-wizards in the field of cursed venoms. Once Miss Granger had been informed of that, she should have realized he was stable enough, and would have gone to join her friends. That was what made sense. What didn't make sense was why she had continued to stay with him even when he was in the care of both Poppy and Minerva.

"You two have a lot in common, don't you?" The soft-spoken witch had again interrupted his ponderings.

He bestowed her with a look that clearly showed he was in disagreement with her statement.

She explained, "Despite her being a Gryffindor and you a Slytherin, you're both brilliant with magic, and rather near-sighted and bookish. There are other similarities, I'm sure, but those are the ones that come to my mind as we speak. And let's not forget that history does say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were the best of friends at one time. Now that you don't have to act evil, and Hermione doesn't have to help Harry constantly, it only makes sense you two would fall into a parallel. Also, you both seem to be purifying nicely, especially when in each other's presence. The same can be said for many of the staff and students who fought in the battle together. The dark auras around you both are nearly unbound. Just a little more time and I'm sure the darkness will have fallen away completely."

Dumbfounded, Severus could only survey her serious and matter-of-fact expression. He understood what she was saying, but found it hard to believe what she was implying. He and Miss Granger connected? Hardly. She was a festering potion, an unstable ingredient in his life, an infuriating, self-righteous, stubborn—

"Anyway, I really hope that what happened to her doesn't stop her from going on with her Newts. I've talked with Neville and Ginny since last night and the three of us really want to help her in any way we can, but we understand if she's not ready to talk to us. We also understand that she may not feel comfortable staying at Hogwarts, even if Zabini is no longer at the school." She was surveying his face as he had been surveying hers. "When you see her next, would you let her know that we're here for her in whatever way she needs us?"

Swallowing slowly, and feeling his fingers flexing, he managed to give the odd witch a curt nod and say, gruffly, "Of course, Miss Lovegood."

"Thank you, Professor."

He cringed inwardly as Miss Granger's voice echoed in his head after Miss Lovegood's. _"_ _So, again, thank you."_ He wanted to snarl at the girl who stood in front of him and tell her not to thank him. He didn't deserve anyone's appreciation or gratefulness. But as his dark eyes seemed to clear enough to see the golden-haired girl's expression, she had already turned around, scooped up her kitten, and was making her way deeper into the forest. For a second he thought about calling her back. To tell her that the forest was off-limits to students, even to seventh-years. To tell her to go to Miss Granger and pass on her message herself, and that he wouldn't be seeing the Gryffindor again if he could help it.

But that would have been a lie.

A/N: Oh, yeah, hi guys... did I mention this would be a slow-burn? Tee hee. I hope you stay along for the ride! Thank you for your comments/critiques, faves and follows!


	12. Chapter 12 - Espressioni (Expressions)

Chapter 12

Espressioni (Expressions)

Severus wanted to help the girl, but didn't know how, except to enforce tighter regulations on his House's students, which would need to be approved by Minerva, and to provide Miss Granger with the safest place in the castle he could think of—with him (which he knew, _he knew_ , was not at all appropriate, and would go against everything he had, hours before, told himself he must do).

He also didn't know for certain if other students would be inspired by Zabini's actions. He did, however, know that there were still many of those in Slytherin House who believed muggle-borns to be far inferior to themselves, even if they didn't voice or act on their beliefs as openly as Zabini had. And no matter how determinedly he, or Minerva, or any other professor, tried to change their ways, some beliefs could not be snubbed so easily.

To approximately half of his students, it seemed, he had become highly unpopular and the topic of disgust or cruel jokes, most likely inspired by their parents. The other half seemed to respect him and look up to him, these being the Slytherin students who did not cling tightly to the same beliefs their other peers clung to. These were the students he was proudest of; those who wished to accomplish greatness, and who were fiercely loyal to their friends. But he could not deny that his House held students who could easily follow in Zabini's footsteps. And, as Miss Granger was an obvious choice of target—having been a key player in Voldemort's downfall, and also being a muggle-born—he knew that as long as she walked these halls she could, potentially, be in danger. While the war was still fresh in everyone's minds, he knew she would always be in the line of fire. And while Severus knew she could hold her own in a battle, he did not want it to come to that. He wanted to help her get through her last year without more conflict and give her the opportunity to heal from her experiences during the war. He had thought she had been starting to heal, but then that damned Zabini had to set everything back.

Severus had spent six years protecting blasted Potter and had even attempted to protect both Potter and Draco Malfoy during their sixth year. He felt he could have done better, and felt that here was his chance, but why did it have to be _her_? If it had been any other student— _any_ other—it would have been a chance he would have jumped at. But because it was Granger, who he found himself drawn to no matter how hard he tried to slate his mind, he was being forced to distance himself from her…which would not at all be helpful in protecting her. That had been proven with both Potter _and_ Draco.

He tugged at his hair in frustration. He wanted to protect the girl but felt infuriated with where they currently stood with one another. She acted as if she trusted him when she was in need, then the next moment assumed the worst of him without any definite proof. The girl was maddening, completely, utterly, maddening! And yet…

There were things about her that he was growing immensely attached to—attributes that latched onto his mind like the strongest sticking charm—and hard as he try, he was not always successful in blocking certain thoughts out of his mind. Thoughts of tracing her lips with his finger; thoughts of her bare neck and blue bathrobe; thoughts of her hands trailing over the keys of a grand piano; thoughts of her wild hair and loud laugh, her bright smile that lit up her eyes and made the smoky topaz shine and glisten; thoughts of her curled up on his couch in his sitting room or tenderly caressing the covers of his books as they rested on his shelves, anxiously waiting for her to choose one of them. And when she thanked him after each private lesson… her words seemed to dribble down the back of his throat and warm his belly like firewhiskey.

And she had stayed with him when he had been on the brink of death. She had ensured he would be saved, had possibly held his hand and spoken to him reassuringly, even while not knowing if he could feel her touch or hear her voice. And more recently, she had tried joking with him. She had been impressing him with both her brewing skills and her determination to advance in Defence. She had tried to get to know him, talking with him during their lessons about his thoughts on different subjects—namely books, which they both loved—and he had granted her with answers. Because he _wanted_ to. He couldn't remember the last time he had desired to converse with someone…until her. Not only did he fantasize about her lips, her neck, her hands, her eyes, but he fantasized about talking to her. And it was not, definitely not, appropriate.

Or was it?

 _Does this make me a pervert? Having feelings for one of my students?_ He questioned silently inside of his mind, once again raking his hands through his head. _How can I be a pervert when she's of-age? Over of-age, technically. And there are times when I look at her that I don't see a student. I see a young woman, a talented witch, a heroine who deserves reprieve from the battle scars she is burdened with._

Pushing aside these thoughts with difficulty, he began heading back up to the school. It was Sunday. He needed to prepare for his classes for the up-coming week. He needed more sleep, too, but knew it was unlikely he would get any without taking a sleeping potion. He would prepare for his classes and then call on Minerva to discuss his ideas on how to prevent any further student attacks. He could wait to ponder Miss Granger until later that night. He needed to focus on his priorities first.

-HG-

Hermione could not thank the three professors enough for all their help. Professor McGonagall had offered Hermione a place to sleep in her private chambers for a few nights until other arrangements could be made. The headmistress seemed to completely understand how Hermione felt, being unable and unwilling to be in the same place where her trauma had occurred. Hermione had a disheartening, but very strong, suspicion that the elderly witch had been in a similar situation once before.

Earlier that day she had also learned, with the help of her headmistress, how to extract memories. They had been careful to extract the correct memories—only those that were appropriate to the trial. Those memories were now stored safely in small vials inside of Hermione's beloved beaded bag.

By dinner time that evening, Hermione was exhausted, but relieved. The memory extraction had been relatively easy, and Professor McGonagall's presence was very comforting. Hermione would be eating dinner in the headmistress's private sitting room—the entrance of which was located in a hidden alcove in the main office—where she would be allowed to study and sleep for the remainder of the evening. She would be alone while the headmistress attended dinner in the Great Hall, but was reassured that her solitude would not last long. After dinner Professor McGonagall would go on her usual rounds of the school before another professor took over the after-hours shift and would then come back to her office. Hermione found herself wondering if the headmistress' relief would be Snape, seeing as he rarely ever seemed to sleep.

Professor McGonagall's sitting room looked drastically different than Professor Snape's. While his room had been darkly lit, with books and parchment and quills scattered around, and without much furniture, the headmistress had three very comfortable armchairs, a large desk, a love seat with a matching ottoman, a connecting couch, and a coffee table. Despite the amount of furniture, the room was light and airy, with warm colors of red, orange and gold. An ancient-looking Gryffindor banner hung above the fireplace and underneath it, on the fireplace's mantel, where a dozen photo frames, all full with smiling, waving and even dancing witches and wizards. Upon closer examination, Hermione recognized Professor Dumbledore, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick among the faces. There were also pictures of a much younger Professor McGonagall holding a cat and accompanied by a man, woman, and a younger boy and girl. Hermione surmised that they must've been her parents and siblings and family pet.

Hermione was eating a dinner of roast beef with mashed potatoes and vegetables in the sitting room when she heard the door to the office open. She paused her chewing, trying to hear who had entered, as she was not expecting the headmistress back until later that evening. When she didn't hear the wards to the sitting room come undone, she stood and crept curiously over to the door she knew lead into the office. She pressed her ear to it but was unable to hear anything. Slowly, she cracked the door. If a student had entered the office when the headmistress was out, Hermione should know.

It wasn't a student. It was her potions professor. He was bent over the headmistress' desk, scribbling onto a blank piece of parchment, his black hair hanging down and concealing his face, except for the point of his hooked nose.

Even though her insides were doubling over, Hermione gathered her courage and said, more loudly than she had intended, "Did you need me to pass on a message to the headmistress, Professor?" She had barely gotten three words out when he had spun on her, his wand raised, eyes glaring dangerously. Instead of feeling frightened or offended, she found it humorous.

"That's the second time you've pulled your wand on me in one day, Sir," she said, not at all trying to hide the amusement in her tone or expression.

For a moment, she saw his face and demeanor slacken, and a look—was it relief?—crossed his face. She had blinked, though, and his eyes were back to being cold and his stance defiant.

"That is the second time I could have hexed you, Miss Granger," he growled back.

She shrugged. "I've not known you to hex before you register who you're about to hex."

He scowled.

She found that his scowl pleased her. Anything to make him aggravated was pleasing to her, after the way he had treated her earlier. "Sorry for catching you off-guard," she said, mockingly, for she knew her apology was more of a taunt than anything.

"I was not caught off-guard," he snapped back. "I just did not assume you would have the gall to enter the office without the headmistress being present."

Hermione gave him a look that clearly expressed her skepticism as she asked, "You knew I was in her private sitting room?"

"Of course I did. The headmistress told me of your whereabouts during dinner."

Hermione felt her stomach give a little jolt. "She told you, or you asked?" She couldn't help goading him. She wanted to have the upper hand, somehow.

His scowl deepened. "What does it matter?" he snarled, avoiding answering her.

"I suppose it doesn't, as nothing I say matters to you," she threw at him, maliciously. "However, since what _you_ say must matter a _great_ deal," she put emphasis onto certain words she hoped would irritate him, "I would be _glad_ to pass on a message to the headmistress for you, as I'm likely to see her before you."

"There's no need," he hissed. "I've left her a note. That you would do well Not. To. Read."

His emphasis on the last three words brought back the painful memory of his harsh words earlier that morning. She knew she wasn't as adept at sneering as he was, but she still gave it her best as she said, "Well, I wasn't planning on it, but now that I know you don't want me to read it, I think I shall."

He took a menacing step towards her. She could feel the electric-like heat that was pulsing between them; a magical power of tension that both of them believed they were in control of. "If you read that note, Miss Granger, I will have you _expelled_."

She would not let him bully her. She had had enough. "Your threat is an empty one as I _already plan to leave_ ," she spat. It was a lie, but he didn't know that. And it, apparently, was believable enough for him to stop in his advance.

"What?" he snapped. She could see his fist bawling tightly around his wand.

"I don't think I stuttered, Professor." She was holding his eyes in a death glare. She knew if he read her mind, after getting past her barricades, he would see that she was lying. But maybe he would believe her and not try to dig into her mind.

"You're giving up on your education because of a—"

She didn't know what he was going to say, but she cut him off. "What does it matter to you? It's overwhelmingly obvious that you're sick of me. It's blatantly clear that you don't understand me _at all_ and so why would you try now? And why would I want to try to explain myself to you? So you can look at me in the most tender way I could never imagine possible of you—so you can assure me that everything will work out for me—so that you can build me up only to shove my face into the dirt again?" The magical tension still pulsed between them. "No. I have come to the understanding that we will just butt heads too many times. And why should I put myself through that turmoil when I've already been through so much? I need support. I need a copper cauldron, not a pewter one."

She watched as Snape's fist unclenched around his wand. He let it slip to the edges of his fingers, then he brought it up and stowed inside of his frock coat. The tension between them broke immediately and Hermione's eyes flickered from where his wand disappeared up to his eyes. They had lost their callousness and now looked…forlorn.

"How can I be a copper cauldron for you when you don't trust me?" her professor inquired, lowering his eyes by a fraction.

Taken aback by his gentle tone, which almost sounded pleading, she didn't answer him. The seconds ticked by painfully until he said, "I do not…enjoy…where we stand."

She knew he wasn't referring to the headmistress' office.

"As you keep pushing us to this place, I was beginning to think you _were_ enjoying it," she replied quietly.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth became a tight line. But she wouldn't take back what she said. If what he was implying was true—that he wanted her to trust him—he would have to learn to control his temper around her. He would have to learn how to talk to her about this without being hurtful.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked, voice low.

"Do you really want to know, Professor?" She remembered how she had asked him the same thing in the piano room.

Raising his eyes back to stare directly into hers, he replied, "I would not have asked if I did not want to know, Miss Granger." She was almost positive that he was remembering that night in the piano room, too.

"I'm not leaving," she admitted. Then, tired of standing awkwardly, she pulled out her wand and produced a sitting chair. She sat down, crossing her legs and surveying her professor. Would he become angry with her for lying to him?

Surprisingly, he responded in what could only be described as relief. His shoulders lost their tension, and he too pulled out his wand and produced a chair. Though the office was already equipped with two chairs in front of the large desk, neither professor nor pupil, it seemed, wanted to use them. Hermione preferred her cozy brown velvet chair and Snape, it seemed, preferred an exact replica of his sitting room's armchair. She half expected him to produce the book he had been reading and continue to peruse it.

Instead, he stowed away his wand again and folded his hands in his lap. "I suppose I deserved your threat," he said finally.

"Why would me leaving the school be a threat to you?" She tried to retain her cool tone, but couldn't help letting some curiosity slip out.

"I wish for you to complete your NEWTs," he explained, simply. She stared at him, raising one eyebrow in an attempt to mock his infamous stare of disbelief. He gave her a glare, but sighed and continued, "I will also admit that I would hate to see you abandon your education due to the disgusting actions of a vile wizard. You're stronger than that."

His compliment was so matter-of-fact that it struck her into silence.

Just then, the door to the office opened and Professor McGonagall entered her office.

Both caught off-guard, Hermione and her potions professor spun in their seats to look at the headmistress, who had stopped in her tracks upon seeing both of them in her office, sitting comfortably across from one another. Hermione could feel a blush forming as her eyes darted to the dark professor across from her. Comically, his stunned expression immediately became impassive and he drawled, "Professor McGonagall, welcome to your office. As you can see, we've both been waiting for you."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. She had? _They_ had?

"Pro-professor Snape," the headmistress stuttered, coming out of her daze. "Miss Granger," she said, nodding at Hermione. "Have you—have you two waited long?"

"Not intolerably," Snape smirked.

"Long enough to have a heated argument," Hermione added. She smirked as her professor gave her a glare.

The headmistress just heaved a sigh and began walking to her desk. "I should be thankful that my office is not on fire, I suppose."

"Oh, it was. Professor Snape and I had just put out all the flames and sat down before you came in, to look presentable, you understand." Hermione shot the potions professor a look, still smirking. For some reason she could see a red flush beginning at the base of his neck. _That's new_ , she thought to herself.

"Well," the headmistress answered, eyes twinkling as she rested her hand on her desk and peered down at Snape from behind her spectacles, "I should hope that you apologized for whatever distress you caused Miss Granger earlier, Severus."

Before her stony-faced potions professor could reply, Hermione spoke up, "Actually, Professor McGonagall, I should be the one to apologize. I, though accidentally, offended Professor Snape earlier, and it was very wrong of me to do, as I had most rashly jumped to a conclusion that was not at all true."

The headmistress' eyebrows rose to the top of her head as she looked from Hermione and then to Snape, who was staring at her with a curious expression on his face. He cleared his throat and said, "We are both at fault, Miss Granger. I should have explained to you that Winky, though bonded to me while she is employed at this school, is still free."

" _That's_ what had you both so enraged this morning?" Professor McGonagall was looking at them both as if they were unruly first-years.

Snape glared at her, but Hermione gave a loud laugh, unexpected even to her. Both Snape and Professor McGonagall turned to look at her, dumbfounded. "It was really more complicated than that, Headmistress," Hermione giggled. "I was about to duel Professor Snape to protect Winky's freedom, and he decided the best way to disarm me was to tell me that I could just shut it."

"That is a very summarized, if accurate, description of the situation, yes," her dark professor agreed, a small twitch apparent at the corner of his mouth.

Professor McGonagall placed her hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. "Merlin's beard…" she muttered.

"It's alright, Professor," Hermione said, getting to her feet suddenly. "I believe Professor Snape had something important to discuss with you. I think I'll retire back to the sitting room, if that's alright?"

The headmistress lowered her hand. "Yes, of course, Hermione. I'll be up late tonight, so feel free to go to bed whenever you would like."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Hermione dipped her head in thanks and then brought her eyes to rest on Snape. "Goodnight, Professor Snape," she told him, suddenly feeling shy.

His dark eyes pierced her, but they were quite tender as he said, "Goodnight, Miss Granger."

As Hermione had just entered into the private sitting room, she paused, hoping to catch something of what her professors were discussing.

"I trust that you and Miss Granger will be alright to continue her private lessons, Severus? I don't need anymore anguish coming to that girl, especially not from any of her teachers."

"No need to worry, Minerva. I believe Miss Granger and I have come to an understanding."

Smiling, and feeling her face flush, Hermione closed the door to the sitting room and went to finish her meal.

A/N: Weeeee for a very Snape-like and Hermione-like apology! But will their "understanding" last, I wonder? Hmmmm. As always, thank you for following and for your comments/critiques! And I'm so happy that I have over 100 follows! Thank you all so much!


	13. Chapter 13 - Open Sesame

Chapter 13

Open-Sesame

"Hermione, I want you to know that all of your professors will completely understand if you need to take today off."

Hermione had been sitting on the comfy golden couch with one of her school texts in one hand and a hot mug of coffee in the other. She had woken many times throughout the night, plagued by a plethora of nightmares, luckily none of which were night terrors. Finally, after she had awoken from what seemed to be the sixth or seventh, she decided to start her day, although it had been only five in the morning. She was used to restless sleep. It was just past seven in the morning when the Headmistress had emerged from her private bedroom, dressed and ready for the new day.

Though Hermione was momentarily tempted to stay in the safety of the sitting room, she forced herself to shake her head and reply, "Thank you, Professor. But I would really like to attend my classes as I normally would."

"I understand… well, I'm off to the Ministry. Madam Pomfrey and I will be there most of the day, as you know."

"Is Professor Snape going as well?" Hermione asked, ignoring the queasy lurch in her stomach.

Professor McGonagall shook her head and sighed. "While I made it clear to Professor Snape that his presence would be beneficial, he adamantly refused." At Hermione's puzzled expression, she explained, "Professor Snape has never been fond of making an appearance at the Ministry. And that dislike has only increased since he was there a few months ago."

Hermione didn't need the headmistress to elaborate. She knew that Professor McGonagall was referring to the trial where Snape was forced to share the same memories he had shared with Harry to the entire Wizengamot.

"Would you like me to send up a house elf with some breakfast?"

"Yes, please. Thank you," Hermione responded, politely. She really didn't want to trouble her professor anymore than she already was, but she still couldn't help the sick feeling that formed in her gut at the thought of sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast.

A short while later, Hermione had given the headmistress the vials with her memories and had then eaten a few bites of toast and eggs, but found she wasn't able to stomach much more. She was nervous to go back out into the hallways of the school, nervous to be around the students, and nervous to see her friends, especially Neville and Luna. She mustered up her Gryffindor courage and walked to the first floor where her Transfiguration classroom was located. She was one of the first students to arrive, but was relieved to see Ginny was early, too.

"Hermione!" The fiery red-head jumped up from their normal desk and ran over to give her friend a warm hug. As she pulled back, Hermione saw that her eyes were wide and troubled. "Oh, gods, are you alright? We should never have let you walk back to school by yourself! I can't believe what that god-awful motherfu—"

"Shhhhhh, Gin," Hermione cut her off, pulling her towards their desk and looking around to see if Professor Jones had been listening. Luckily, the older witch had been occupied with sorting papers on her desk. "Look, I don't blame any of you for letting me walk back up to the school alone. None of us knew that Zabini was going to…" she trailed off, forcing herself to control the pinpricks of fear at the nape of her neck.

"I'm still so sorry, Hermione," Ginny said, earnestly. "If I had been there I would've bat-bogey hexed the hell out of—"

Hermione cut her friend off again, glancing nervously around to see if any Slytherins had entered the classroom yet. She didn't need Ginny to be a target of attack anymore than she already could be. "Ginny, if you had been there I would've been even more embarrassed than I already am. Five people saw me in a way I never would've wanted them to…" She trailed off again as the younger witch's face became tender with concern.

Ginny set her hand on Hermione's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Trust me, Hermione, Neville and Luna would never say _anything_. Ernie, on the other hand…" Ginny's face darkened.

"Did he…?" Hermione felt the quiver in her own voice as she asked.

But before Ginny could answer, Hermione heard a gush of bodies enter the room behind her. She forced herself not to turn around, unwilling to meet any curious eyes who may or may not have heard what had happened to her. She had the rising suspicion that Ernie had not kept quiet, however, for she could already hear hushed whispers, and watched as Ginny shot death-glares towards people Hermione couldn't see.

Moments later, Hermione felt someone squeeze her shoulder gently and she spun to see Neville, smiling somewhat sadly, down at her. "Hey, Hermione," he said softly. Then he and Luna took their seats next to her like usual. Luna was waving at Hermione, her silvery-blue eyes full of compassion and sympathy.

None of this felt right.

"Alright class," Professor Jones began immediately. "Quiet down. Today we are going to continue practicing body Transfiguration. As the class has successfully progressed passed—" but Hermione couldn't focus on her professor's words. From directly behind her she could distinctly hear low murmurs and caught the words "Granger" and "Zabini" and "Hogsmeade". Hermione could feel her race flushing a deep red.

"We're good to be partners, right?" Ginny asked, turning to Hermione seconds later.

"Wha-what? Oh, yeah, of course," Hermione stuttered, not having any clue as to what they were going to be practicing.

As everyone turned towards their respective partners, from her peripherals she caught the sight of a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff directly behind her, gawking and whispering. She quickly focused on Ginny and forced herself not to look at any of the other students in the class.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how she got through the rest of the lesson. She barely tried any body Transfiguration on Ginny, as she wasn't feeling magically adept. Ginny didn't seem very focused on the lesson, either, as she kept shooting glares in different directions around the class, while also trying to act like everything was normal whenever she spoke to Hermione.

A torturous hour later, Professor Jones dismissed them, assigning homework which Hermione scribbled down onto her planner, but didn't register. As Ginny, Neville and Luna protectively walked her out into the corridor, two Slytherin boys made crude, suggestive gestures towards her. Hermione froze, feeling sick to her stomach. As if Ginny had been expecting it, her wand flew into her hand out of nowhere and her bat-bogey hex was administered onto both Slytherins.

"Miss Weasley!" Professor Jones shouted, striding over to them with a look of shock on her face. "What in the name of—"

"They made a crude gesture at Hermione, Professor Jones!" Neville interrupted, stepping in front of Hermione, as if to shield her from further harm.

But Hermione couldn't take it. The murmurs from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students told her that Ernie had not kept what he had witnessed to himself. And the crude and suggestive gestures from the Slytherin seventh-years insinuated many different possibilities. Maybe they had known about Zabini's plan and were mocking her? Maybe they thought Zabini hadn't really assaulted her and that she was just "easy"? As she stared, unseeingly, at the two writhing Slytherin boys on the ground, she felt the familiar sensation of panic begin to rise in her gut, her throat, and her mind.

Not hearing what Professor Jones or her friends said as she took off running down the hall, she headed straight for the headmistress' office. She was halfway there when she realized two things; the headmistress would not be in her office, as she was at the Ministry, and she had left that morning before giving Hermione the password to get past her wards. Hermione ignored the curious faces of students as she flew down the hall in the other direction, heading to the only other safe place she could think of.

When she reached Professor Weasley's Defence classroom, she burst inside, only to find the room empty. Hoping that she would be in her office, Hermione ran up the flight of stairs at the back of the classroom and banged on the door. But there was no answer. She realized this must've been Molly's free period. Not wanting to hunt her down, Hermione quickly ran through her other options. She could run down to Hagrid's… but there was no way of knowing if he'd be in his cabin. Still taking on his duties as both gamekeeper and teacher, he could be anywhere on the grounds. She could run up to the seventh floor and attempt to find refuge in the Room of Requirements, but she couldn't stand the thought of being alone in the room where she and her friends had almost been engulfed in Fiendfyre.

Panting, mind racing, she began running to the only other place she could think of to escape the shame and fear threatening to overtake her.

As she ran, her panic rose with her. If this didn't work…if she couldn't escape…she knew she would go into a full-blown panic attack. She had been wrong. She was not ready to go to her classes. But now it was too late to undo what had been done.

Hermione sprinted down the main corridor of the dungeons, flying past the closed door to Snape's potions classroom, and coming to a halt in front of the door she knew would lead to his private potions lab and then to the room she craved most, his sitting room.

" _Alohamora_!" she cried aloud. However, unlike last time, the door did not give way.

 _Damn that man!_ She cursed to herself. He had strengthened his wards since she had last broken past them. She knew it wasn't likely for her benefit, but for the benefit of keeping out anyone who wanted to steal potion ingredients.

" _Aberto_!" She yelled. The door flew open for her and she practically dove inside. She ignored the steaming cauldron that was sitting on the large desk in the center of the room; her need to find sanctuary overpowered any curiosity. She approached the door Professor Snape had told her would lead to his private sitting room.

" _Alohamora_!" The door remained locked.

" _Aberto_!" Still, the door did not open for her. She cursed, her panic mounting.

" _Dunamis_!" No good.

" _Liberare_!" With each new spell, and each new failure, her panic continued to escalate.

" _Emancipare_!" She could feel hot tears welling behind her eyes.

" _Annihilare_!" Her hair had come down from her bun as she struck repeatedly at the door, using the same spells over and over again, to no avail.

Finally, out of desperation, she cried, " _Portaberto_!" Expecting the door knob and lock to blow a large hole in the door, she closed her eyes tightly. But no such explosion came.

She only had one other option… gritting her teeth, hair and tears spilling down the sides of her face, she screamed, " _Open Sesa_ —"

"MISS GRANGER!"

Hermione spun on the person who had blocked her spell. Her wand arm was raised, prepared to jinx anyone who tried to attack her.

-SS-

Had it not been for the wild-eyed expression on her face, reminding him so forcefully of how she had looked under the point of Zabini's wand, he would have come baring down on her in all his fury. How dare she try to use such a spell on his private room's door! But her disheveled look—hair flying in all directions, tear streaks down her reddened cheeks, chest heaving with the obvious effort of her wand's lacerations to break his wards—expelled his anger as if it had been sucked right out of him.

Keeping his voice calm, he began, "What is the meaning of—"

"Just open the damned door!" she screamed.

Completely confounded, he drew his wand. He watched her flinch, her eyes trained on his wand, as if expecting him to attack her. His stunned amazement immediately morphed into concern. He gave it a small flick, being sure to make the movement obvious towards his door and not towards her. The door's wards fell and the witch, her chest still heaving, shoved the door open with both hands and disappeared into his private sitting room.

He stood, wand still raised, staring at the dark void into which she had disappeared. He took a cautious step towards the door's entryway and was accosted by the harrowing sob of his nightmares. Without hesitation, he strode into his sitting room, eyes searching for the young witch. He immediately found her, crumpled up into a pathetic ball on his couch, sobbing uncontrollably into the fabric.

He watched her body as it trembled and, not knowing what else to do, he noiselessly summoned the ointment Madam Pomfrey had given him to give to Hermione. He still had it, as the young witch had forgotten to take it with her the previous morning when she had stormed out of his sitting room. Approaching her with delicacy, he knelt down beside her and placed a hand on the small of her back.

She didn't react to his touch, just continued to sob into the arm of his couch. He took the ointment and gently applied it to the nape of her neck, scooping up her curly hair into one hand and smoothing the medicine gently over the soft spot of skin just below her hairline with the other. He forced himself not to spend too much time on her exposed neck, and then gently reached for her left wrist, which she allowed him to take without resistance. Silently, he rubbed the inside of her left wrist. When he lowered it, she rolled over, still sobbing, and held out her right wrist to him. He applied the medicine there, too.

"If you sit up, I can apply it to your chin and temples," he said, his low voice barely above a whisper.

She gave a small nod and forced herself into a sitting position. He took more of the paste and gently applied it to both of her temples with his thumbs, which suddenly seemed so large in comparison to her face. Gulping, thankful that Miss Granger's eyes were shut tightly, he moved on to the base of her chin, his eyes lingering on her lower lip.

Repressing the urge to enact his desire, knowing that it would only terrify and confuse the witch even more, he carefully touched only the soft piece of skin under her chin. After he had finished applying the ointment to all the crucial areas, he lowered his hand and reset the lid back on the small jar, setting it down on the small table in front of the couch.

Tears still fell down her cheeks, but she was no longer sobbing or trembling. Though his knees were beginning to ache from kneeling for so long, he continued to survey her.

"You went through with your decision to attend your classes." He said it as a statement, not a question, but she nodded feebly all the same.

He sighed. Not in disappointment or frustration, but in anger and concern. Anger towards the immaturity of the students who allowed themselves to whisper and leer at rumors, and concern for the witch who sat before him. He knew going to her classes a mere day after her attack would not end well. He knew from experience. Well, not the same experience, but a similar one, nonetheless.

"I need to get back to my class, as they still have thirty minutes left before the bell rings. I will re-ward my sitting room and private lab, then return as soon as I can. In the meantime, you should breathe deeply, attempt to relax and rest."

Not knowing if she wouldn't meet his gaze due to embarrassment, or simply because her eyes were red and puffy with tears, he gave her small hand a soft squeeze and then stood. With one more backwards glance at her before he left the room, he saw that she had fallen onto her side and was resting her head on one of the pillows that accompanied his couch. Her eyes were still closed, but her tears had ceased, and her breathing had calmed. Feeling assured she would be fine until he returned, he locked his rooms and went back to his class of fourth-years.

When Severus returned to his private sitting room no less than thirty-five minutes later, the Gryffindor was still in the same position she had been when he had left. Thinking her to be asleep, he quietly summoned his sitting chair and his copy of _Practical but Rare Potions: Test Your Brewing Skills_. He had a free period now and didn't mind waiting to see if she woke up and wanted to talk to him in between his classes.

He had turned a page of the book when, out of his peripherals, he saw her sit up suddenly. He lowered the book slowly and met her eyes. They weren't quite as red and puffy anymore, but they still looked watery. And yet, they seemed happy to see him.

"Thank you, Professor. I am so sorry for shouting at you and—"

"Almost transforming my doorway into firewood?" he supplied, but his lips quirked up at the edges.

She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I was a bit panicky."

"Manic, would be suitable description. My fourth-year students were under the impression that a maniac was attempting to steal valuable potion ingredients from my personal stocks."

She gave him a glare, but it was rendered useless by her apparent embarrassment, to which he continued to smirk at. However, he knew his smirk was just as blemished by the small crinkles next to his eyes. He was so relieved that she was no longer crying.

"Anyway, I _am_ sorry for attempting to break into your sitting room. It's just… I had nowhere else to go. Both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey are at the Ministry, and when I went to Professor Weasley's office she wasn't there. This was the last place I could think of."

He ignored the strange feeling that overcame him upon hearing that this was the _last_ place she had thought of to find peace. Instead, he inclined his head and said, "You're free to come to my sitting room whenever you'd like, however I would prefer that you seek my permission first. It's soon to become a pain, having to change the wards every time you manage to break them." Again, he made sure to keep his tone light. He didn't want to make it seem as if he were seriously admonishing her. On the contrary, he found her ability to break his enchantments twice rather impressive.

"Sorry about that," she apologized again, blushing.

He waved a hand, dismissively. "You don't need to apologize for being a talented witch, Miss Granger." They held gazes for a moment. He was curious to see if she would comment on his not at all subtle compliment.

Instead, she tore her eyes from his and looked at her lap. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Professor, I think I'd like to stay here for a while. I'm not—I don't think I can stand to be around the other students…yet."

"I don't have an issue with that, however I won't return until shortly before dinner. You will be alone until then." He had wanted to ask her if she would be alright to be alone for so long, but he was familiar with Gryffindor pride. He didn't want to hinder hers. Not now, anyway.

"That's alright," she replied. "I brought my school books with me. But…" she trailed off and he watched as she looked, longingly, towards his bookcases.

"If you complete your studying, you're free to browse my collection, so long as you place everything back where they were previously. Contrary to popular belief, I am quite a clean and organized individual."

"I never thought you weren't."

Again, they held one another's gaze. He wanted to know what she was thinking as she stared so intently at him, but he promised himself he wouldn't invade her mind in that way. While a part of him was extremely curious, the other part, truth be told, was hesitant. He was beginning to second guess her person as each day passed, but didn't want to resort to Legilimency to pin-point who she was. He wanted to discover that for himself, without magic.

"So," he began, becoming uncomfortable with the silence between them. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

He watched as she fidgeted in her seat. "Knowing you, you probably already know," she mumbled.

He couldn't prevent the smirk that formed. "I could guess, but I'd rather you tell me."

She sighed. "Well, it seems as if word of what happened to me has already made it around to the seventh-years. I heard a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw behind me in Transfiguration whispering about it…"

"When those two get together, they lose all sense of discretion," Severus scoffed.

"…and two Slytherins made some… erm… crude, suggestive gestures at me," she whispered.

"What?" Severus was sitting straight now, no longer relaxed. "Who were they?" he hissed.

"Um…"

"Their names, Miss Granger!"

She seemed to recoil at his harsh tone. Cursing inwardly, he forced himself to sit back in his chair. Though his hands gripped onto the arms of his seat, he forced his voice to come out low and steady. "Please, it's important that you tell me, so I know who I need to take precautions with. I don't want what happened to you to happen to anyone else at this school."

"It was… Marshall Flint, and his cousin, Justin Fitzpatrick."

Severus began mentally listing off different punishments for the two seventh-years when Miss Granger broke through his dark thoughts.

"Professor, if you punish them for this… I fear they're just going to take it out on me, or worse still, one of my friends."

He was taken aback at her words, but found they were of sound sense. Still, there needed to be some form of punishment enacted. The two boys, and anyone who witnessed what they had done, could not go on to believe that their actions were acceptable.

"I will speak with them," he told her. "Believe me, I don't want to bolster their reasons for tormenting you, or anyone else. However, I will not stand aside and dismiss their actions. There must be consequences."

She nodded, and they once again fell into silence. She reached for her beaded bag and he watched as she opened it and extracted two textbooks. However, the two books combined were bigger than the bag.

"Undetectable extension charm?" he couldn't help but wonder aloud.

She smiled again, this time much less sheepishly. "It's been extremely useful. I don't have nearly as much packed in here as I did when Harry, Ron and I were on the run, but it's nice to be able to hold all of my books in one bag without the fear of it ripping."

He was once more impressed, but didn't want to show it. One compliment was more than enough in the span of one conversation. He watched as she opened one of the books, an Ancient Runes text, and then he picked up his potions book and went back to reading as well. He felt content, with her sitting across from him, reading, and no longer in distress.

When it was close to the time of his next potions lesson, he cleared his throat. Granger looked up at him, attentive. "I plan to be back before dinner, but if I'm not, you can summon Winky to serve you, if you wish. Just call her by her name and she should come."

"Thank you, Professor."

He gave her a curt nod and got to his feet, setting his book down on the chair. He turned to her and said, somewhat teasingly, "And don't forget what I said, Miss Granger, about my books. They all have their proper place."

She smiled. "Of course, Sir."

Satisfied, he turned and left the room, leaving behind the witch who, miraculously, found safety in his personal quarters.

The only thing that was missing, now, was a grand piano…

A/N: So... feisty Hermione and stunned Snape. With fluff! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did!


	14. Chapter 14 - Non Potevano

Chapter 14

Non Potevano

(They Could Not)

Although he taught a fifth-year, sixth-year and seventh-year class that day, with Miss Granger's absence in his potions class like a gaping hole, that wasn't the only time he thought about her. She was forever on his mind throughout the rest of the day. He could see her, leaned back comfortably on his couch, reading her Ancient Runes text. He was only grateful that he hadn't been there to watch her peruse his books. He wasn't sure he would have been able to stand that.

Finally, when his last class was dismissed, he almost wanted to usher out the seventh-years so he could rush back to his sitting room. Catching himself at the last moment, however, he regained his composure and held himself back as he always did until every student had vacated the room. Then, calmly, he locked his classroom and strode down to his private lab. He could feel his heart speed as he crossed the room and reached for his wand to unlock the sitting room's wards.

He had expected to see Miss Granger as he had left her. His breath caught in his throat, however, when he saw that she was slouched over his couch, head resting on the pillow she had been using previously. Her hair was drawn down her back and over her shoulder. Her shoes were abandoned on the carpet, her white socks a shocking contrast against the black velvet of his couch. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing softly, her shoulders and chest moving lightly with each inhale and exhale.

She looked angelic.

Snapping himself out of his momentary trance, he furrowed his eyebrows in frustration with himself. He couldn't let himself get used to this. He had said she could come here whenever she wanted, but he was still not able to let her…stay. And, he knew, once he did everything he could to put a stop to his disgusting Slytherins and any unflattering rumors flying around the castle, she would be back to her classes, back to her normal routine…as she should be.

He sat down in his seat across from the couch and said quietly, "Miss Granger?"

She didn't move.

He sighed. He hated to be the one to wake her. He knew she needed sleep, but she also needed food. And he didn't know what she wanted for dinner, not having thought to ask her earlier.

"Miss Granger?" he repeated, louder this time.

She stirred, her right arm coming to stretch over her head. He found his eyes following its arch, mesmerized. He couldn't remember the last time he had watched a young woman wake up from a nap. Maybe the last time had been with Lily? Merlin, that was so long ago. He suddenly felt hot under the collar. Would she feel that her privacy had been invaded with him sitting there, staring at her?

He hastily picked up his book and opened it, pretending to have been staring at it instead of her just as her brown eyes fluttered open sleepily.

"Oh, Professor," she mumbled, groggily.

It was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

"I must've dozed off after I finished _Irresistible Charmers: A History of Notable Wizards in the 1950s_ by Andromeda Black, well, Tonks, now," the stretching witch explained. "I never knew she had any books published."

Severus looked down at the table in between them and, sure enough, saw the book that Miss Granger was referring to. "You finished it?" It was hard to keep the bewilderment out of his tone.

She giggled. His eyes shot up to her and he was greeted by those shining, twinkling eyes.

She should not be looking at him like that.

"It's only 300 pages," she replied, nonchalantly. At his raised eyebrow she continued, "I've always been a voracious reader, Professor."

She should _not_ be looking at him like that.

"I see. Well, I don't have long before dinner, but was coming to check on you. I'm glad I did, as you most likely would've slept through dinner. Is there something I can have Winky get you?" He knew his words were slightly rushed and hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Is the headmistress back yet?" she asked instead. "I could always eat in her sitting room, if you're uncomfortable with me being in here without you?"

He smirked. "I trust you, Miss Granger. As it is, the headmistress has not yet returned. I believe she planned to meet with Potter and then Shacklebolt after the trial." His student's face immediately fell so he quickly added, "The meeting with Shacklebolt has nothing to do with your situation. However, she very well could have let Potter know, as he is your friend and was with you in Hogsmeade the night of the incident."

She nodded, but her head still drooped.

"I'm surprised Potter hasn't already stormed into the castle, demanding to see you," Severus added, teasingly.

"I'm surprised, too," she mumbled. Then, looking up at him questioningly, she said, "Professor, can I ask you a question?"

He felt himself tense, but he nodded.

"Why are…why are you being so kind to me? I mean, I know we both apologized to one another last night, but… that still doesn't explain…"

"Maybe that is a question for another time, Miss Granger," he replied after a moment's silence. Without waiting for a response, he snapped his fingers twice and Winky appeared with a loud _crack!_.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she squeaked, then noticing Miss Granger she turned and said, "Hello, Misses," and she bowed her head.

"Winky, Miss Granger will be dining in my sitting room this evening. Would you please retrieve some supper for her and bring it back here?"

The house elf nodded, her ears flopping comically. "Of course, Sir. Will the Professor be dining with the Misses as well?"

Forcing himself not to flush, he avoided Granger's gaze and replied quickly, "Not this evening, Winky. I am needed in the Great Hall, per usual." Then, turning to the Gryffindor he added, "Someone needs to make sure those dunderheads don't start a food fight, or worse."

"Oh, I'd _love_ to see that," Miss Granger replied, her eyes glinting mischievously.

"I'm sure you would," he replied. "I must be off to the Great Hall now."

"To prevent food fights," she finished.

"Correct." He bestowed her with the smallest of smiles, as he had done in the library a month ago. Not wanting to see her reaction, he spun on his heals and exited the sitting room. He knew he would have rather liked to stay there, dining with her… but he couldn't.

He just couldn't…

-HG-

Despite the horrible morning, Hermione was feeling well rested and relaxed. She tried not to think about how she would have to go back to McGonagall's chambers, most likely after Snape finished dinner, and instead focused on the book she had just chosen from his bookshelf. Pushing away her half-finished plate of pork chops and vegetables, she curled up on his couch and began reading a piece of fiction she had discovered amongst the lower shelves. It must've been a muggle author because she didn't recognize the name Emily Brontë.

She had made it about fifty pages in when she heard the wards to the room releasing. Her heart sped instinctively, but whether it was from fear of an intruder or excitement of her professor returning, she couldn't be sure. Forcing herself to appear unmoved, she focused on the book and didn't bother looking up as a familiar dark frame entered the sitting room.

"Wuthering Heights?" His baritone voice came out low and calm, with a hint of curiosity.

"Is it any good?" she asked, finally raising her eyes to rest on his face. "I've only just gotten to the part where Heathcliff tells Nelly that he is plotting revenge against Hindley."

"Are you not well-versed in classic Muggle literature, Miss Granger?" Two years ago his tone might've been condescending. Now it was genuinely curious.

Hermione gave him a small smile. She noticed he still stood in the entryway. "My parents are dentists…" she told him. "And I'm in love with everything magic…what do you think?"

"Again, let us agree that Hogwarts does not teach classes that it ought," her professor sneered. "Classical literature, among the study of language, is essential in every muggle school, and yet somehow wizards and witches deem themselves to be above such trivial aspects of learning." He took a few strides towards his armchair and rested his hand on its back, glancing around at his books. "I took it upon myself at a very early age to expand my choice of literature—especially once I realized I would not be able to get my hands on magical texts over the summer and therefore would be left with very little to read." His gaze then fell onto Hermione, who returned it with a puzzled expression.

"Weren't you able to visit Diagon Alley?"

His eyes visibly darkened. "No, I was not."

She knew she probably shouldn't pry, but her bewilderment got the better of her. "You're a half-blood, though. You didn't grow up with _both_ of your parents unwelcome, like I did. So I don't understand…"

"I came from a poor family," he explained, simply.

She felt like he wasn't fully explaining himself—that the answer wasn't _that_ simple. But she registered the warning tone he spoke with and decided not to pursue the topic. She lowered her eyes to the text and found she didn't know what to say.

"The headmistress has returned," her professor said then.

Hermione's stomach did a flip. She didn't look at him as she asked, "Did she…did she tell you what happened?" When he didn't respond immediately, she brought her eyes timidly up to meet his. He was staring at her with that tender look again; the one she never thought she'd see on his face, but the one he continuously surprised her with.

"As she was unable to tell me what took place at the trial, she was only able to tell me the final verdict. However, if you'd rather wait to hear it from Professor McGonagall herself—"

"Is he going to come back to the school?" she blurted out suddenly.

"Absolutely. Not." His words came out almost as a growl.

"Thank Merlin…" she sighed with relief.

They both fell into silence again.

"I think, Miss Granger, it would be best for you to return to the headmistress' office. I suspect she would like to speak with you about the events that took place today."

Hermione felt her face flush. "You told her what happened?"

He gave her a small smirk. "Do you mean to ask if I told her how you nearly blasted down my private sitting room door and interrupted my lesson?"

Her blush deepened.

"No, however now I think I should accompany you to meet with her so I can reprimand you in front of her."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Professor—!"

He held up a hand, his smirk widening, and she fell silent. " _No_ , Miss Granger. I held my tongue, painfully, I might add. It was Professor Jones and Neville Longbottom who approached the headmistress as to your situation. I merely supplied your whereabouts." With a flick of his wand, which Hermione hadn't even seen him draw, the large fireplace erupted in bright green flames. "You may use my floo to reach the headmistress directly."

"Thank you, Professor," she said softly. She set _Wuthering Heights_ down on the table and walked over to the fireplace.

Just as she was about to step through it, Snape called her back. She turned and saw that he was holding out the book to her. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you from devouring yet another book. Take care of it and return it once you've finished."

Shocked, she could only nod as she took the leather-bound volume in her hands.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

"Goodnight, Professor Snape."

With the prompting of Professor McGonagall, Hermione was to take the next day off. Feeling extremely hopeless, the young witch asked her professor if she could at least receive instructions on what to read during the day so she could keep up with the classes she was to miss. The headmistress agreed, and by ten in the morning the next day, Hermione was pouring over the instructions from her Defence Against the Dark Arts class, her Potions class (her heart giving an unexpected jolt at the sight of Snape's impeccable scrawl), her Charms class, her History of Magic class, and her Muggle Studies class. By lunch time, she felt abnormally overwhelmed.

It was almost two o'clock when Hermione heard the headmistress' fireplace flare to life. Pausing her reading, she tilted her head to better hear who had entered the outer room.

"Professor McGonagall, is now a good time?"

Hermione jumped up from McGonagall's coffee table and rushed to the door that would permit her entry into the headmistress' office. Just as she reached the door, it opened of its own accord and Harry James Potter awaited her on the other side.

An hour later, Hermione walked out by the black lake alongside Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna. Harry was recounting to the two Gryffindors and Ravenclaw how he had come to hear about Zabini's despicable acts. While he and Ron had both been at home Saturday following Hogsmeade and all throughout Sunday, as soon as they got to the Ministry Monday morning they were both informed of what had happened. Harry was about to apparate into Hogsmeade when Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had arrived at the Ministry. They immediately met with Harry, who insisted on being present during the trial. While Hermione had been horrified at this thought at first, Harry quickly reminded her that he had no recollection of the memories that were presented during the trial, and this eased her panic. Harry explained that he had wanted to come to Hogwarts immediately after the trial, but Kingsley had needed him for another case that couldn't afford to wait.

"I hope the fowl git rots in Azkaban," Ginny said darkly after Harry had finished.

Hermione shook her head, looking out towards the lake. "I just don't want him to ever be able to do what he did to me to anyone else. Ever."

Harry squeezed her shoulder and said, "He won't."

"So Professor McGonagall is letting you stay in her sitting room?" Neville asked, and Hermione nodded.

"That's so nice of her," Luna said.

"I feel uncomfortable there, though," Hermione sighed. "I feel safe, of course, but still uncomfortable." She wished she could confess to her friends where she longed to stay, but knew that none of them would be able to understand. "I don't want to be a burden to Professor McGonagall, but I'm also not ready to go back to my own room."

"Why don't you stay with my mom?" Ginny suggested.

"Gin, that's a great idea," Harry agreed.

"Professor Weasley does seem to like you a lot," Luna added.

Hermione laughed softly, remembering how Professor Snape had also mentioned bunkering down with Molly Weasley, comparing her to a mother-figure that had been in Hermione's life since she started at Hogwarts.

"Professor Weasley could probably use your company, Hermione," Neville said, his tone teasing. "You could help her out with her lesson planning."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes as her four friends laughed.

"But, if staying with Ginny's mom won't work out, there is always the Room of Requirement," Neville continued.

"Ooooh, good idea, Neville! The Room of Requirement was so helpful to us last year," Luna agreed.

"I had thought of that…" Hermione admitted. She gave Harry a look and he met her eyes, knowingly. It would be a long time before they forgot their near-death experience in that room while trying to find and destroy the Diadem of Ravenclaw that Voldemort had cursed into a Horcrux.

"You could even stay in the forest," Luna suggested. "The Thestrals like you enough. You could stay with their herd."

Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Neville all turned to stare at the Ravenclaw, their mouths all comically open in disbelief.

The golden-haired girl tossed her head back and giggled. "I'm only joking! There are way too many Nargles and Blibbering Humdingers out there for any place to be suitable for sleeping."

They all laughed and laughed and Hermione found herself wishing that moment by the lake could have lasted all day.

But sooner than she was ready for, Harry was saying he had to go back to the Ministry. He didn't leave without first assuring them he'd be back later that week to check on how Hermione was doing. Hermione knew that she wasn't the only one benefiting from Harry's visit. Ginny also looked forlorn as the young wizard walked towards the main gates and road that would eventually lead into Hogsmeade.

Wrapping her arm around Hermione's waist, Ginny leaned in and said, "You should ask my mom after dinner if you could try staying with her until you felt better. I'm sure she wouldn't mind it at all."

Hermione nodded. "Alright. I'll talk to Professor McGonagall tonight and see what she thinks."

Together, the four friends walked back up to the castle, Luna humming a pleasant tune that Hermione recognized as a slower version of one of The Weird Sisters songs. She smiled and tried to ignore the tightness in her gut as the castle loomed ever closer.

What she really wanted, even more than being with her friends, was to be sitting on his black velvet couch, reading _Wuthering Heights_ as he sat across from her in his armchair… but she couldn't.

She just couldn't…

A/N: Sorry about the longer wait. The following chapters will take a bit longer to upload as my school work is becoming cumbersome. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm grateful to all of the follows and faves I have so far. Please drop a comment and let me know what you think about this chapter! Thanks!


	15. Chapter 15 - Contentezza (Contentment)

Chapter 15

Contentezza

(Contentment)

"Thank you so much for letting me stay with you, Professor Weasley." Hermione was adjusting the pillow and blanket on her Defence professor's sitting room's couch as she prepared for bed. It felt strange to be moving around from room to room so often. Even when she had been on the run with Harry and Ron, she had always been able to rely on the unchanging interior of the camping tent. But it had barely been over a month back at Hogwarts and she found herself, for the fourth time, sleeping in a new room.

"Not to worry, dear. You know I don't at all mind doing whatever I can to help you. And, while we're alone, it's quite alright if you call me Mrs. Weasley, or even Molly, I don't mind. You're so grown up now. Sometimes when I look at you I forget you're my student."

Hermione gave the older witch a small smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Well, I think I'm all settled in now. I'm just going to read and then head to bed."

"Of course. If you need anything, I'll be in the room just next door." Mrs. Weasley bustled away, waving her wand and doing some last-minute tidying up along the way. Hermione knew the motherly Gryffindor hadn't had much time to clean before Hermione had arrived. Again, Hermione found herself feeling ashamed at the fact that she was unable to build up the courage to sleep back in her own room. She was being such a burden…and she knew it.

She grabbed _Wuthering Heights_ and tucked herself into the couch, snuggled beneath the blanket Mrs. Weasley had given to her to borrow. Before opening the book, she stared around the room, taking in her new surroundings. She now assumed that every professor had an office, private sitting room, and private bedroom. Well, except for Professor Snape. He seemed to prefer a private lab to an office. He, she knew, when he wasn't brewing, did all his professor duties from within his own classroom. That was the only office he needed.

 _Stop thinking about him_ , she scolded herself. She found that she could barely go ten minutes without thinking of the black-clad professor and his cool, dark eyes. She forced herself to focus on how Mrs. Weasley had added her personal touch to the sitting room that, at one point, must've belonged to Quirrell, Lockhart (her inner thirteen-year-old-self giggled), Lupin, Moody, Umbridge ( _Ugh!_ ), and… Snape? Did her professor take over this sitting room when he had taught Defence Against the Dark Arts in her sixth year? No, surely not, she decided. She could never picture him in any other sitting room than the one he had had for nearly half of his life.

Shaking her head to rid it of the dark professor once more, she wondered if it had been strange for Professor McGonagall to leave the private chambers she had had during her many years as the Transfiguration professor. It was true, she definitely seemed well at home in the head office, much more than Snape probably had when he had been headmaster just this past year…

 _For fucking Merlin's sake, Hermione! STOP thinking about him!_

She intently studied the circular room, with cherry wood walls and mahogany furniture. There was a tan couch, where she sat, and two armchairs, and a small desk with a flower pot containing vibrant pink carnations and yellow daffodils.

Mrs. Weasley, like Professor McGonagall, also had photographs sitting on the mantle above the large fireplace. She noticed the picture from the summer before her third year when the Weasleys had taken a vacation to Egypt. She saw other photos of Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley with their kids, and her eyes lingered on one of the largest photographs, being of Fred and George on either side of their mother. They were planting big kisses on both of her cheeks and the Mrs. Weasley in the photo was laughing and blushing, jovially. That was something Hermione hadn't noticed before but seemed glaringly obvious to her now that she looked back on it; she hadn't noticed a single picture in Professor Snape's sitting room. There had been plenty of books, definitely more than in either of Mrs. Weasley's or Professor McGonagall's sitting rooms, but absolutely no photos.

She suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her professor. Did he truly have no one in his life special enough to keep a photo of in his private sitting room? Not even one of Lily Potter, his closest childhood friend and love? What of his parents? Did he have any siblings? Didn't he have any friends at all? Did he have—

 _Okay! That's enough!_ Hermione tore her eyes away from Mrs. Weasley's mantel, where she had been staring off into space, and threw open the book still resting in her hands. _It's time to get lost in a book. Then I'm going straight to bed._

If only it were ever that simple.

Hermione was successful at diving into and enjoying _Wuthering Heights_ all the way up to its end, but as soon as she placed it carefully back into her beaded bag and rolled over onto her side to go to sleep, the first face she saw behind her closed eyelids was that of her potions professor. She tossed and turned as his midnight irises continued to burn a tattoo into her mind.

-SS-

Severus couldn't remember the last time he had searched so intently over the heads of all the students in the Great Hall at dinner. It was Wednesday evening, and while he knew the probability that Miss Granger would be in the hall was highly unlikely, as she had not been in his potions class, he couldn't help but search carefully for her. He spotted Weasley, Longbottom, Lovegood, and the Hufflepuff Abbott all sitting together at the Gryffindor table. But the frizzy brown hair was absent from their small group.

With a sinking feeling in his gut that accompanied the realization that he did not know when he'd be seeing the Gryffindor again, he forced his eyes to travel over the rest of the House tables. He was pleased to see two of his fourth-year Slytherins sitting next to a Ravenclaw student, chatting and smiling with him. Over at the Hufflepuff table there were a few Ravenclaw students and one third-year Slytherin, most likely a younger sibling to one of the Hufflepuffs. At the Slytherin table he spotted one Hufflepuff sixth-year and one Ravenclaw seventh-year. While it wasn't a striking change, it was a start. Minerva, at least, seemed pleased, and both Pomona and Filius were supportive of the inter-House mingling.

He had discussed with the headmistress different actions to take regarding his Slytherin students, and any other students who seemed prejudiced. Together they had brain-stormed a few possible solutions, but he found that Miss Granger was occupying his thoughts more than anything else at the present.

Still, Wednesday evening came and went, and he didn't feel it in his character to ask Molly how the young witch was doing. He did, however, eavesdrop in on the conversation Molly had with Hagrid. It seemed that Miss Granger was doing all her eating, studying, and sleeping in Molly's sitting room, and was keeping to herself. Hagrid had asked Molly if he should attempt to talk with her about how she was feeling, but Molly had insisted on giving the young Gryffindor more time to sort through her feelings herself. Severus wasn't sure if that was the best action to take. He felt that for the young witch to keep to herself too much could result in implosion. Still, he forced himself to remain withdrawn from the situation.

Severus was in his private lab on Thursday during lunch when a quiet knock sounded at the door. His heart lurching into his throat, he strode quickly to the door and extended his hand to open it. He stopped, though, forcing his heart back into his chest just as his hand touched the handle. He realized it was uncommon for him to open the door personally, but it was too late to back-track and open the door by use of his wand, for as soon as his hand had come into contact with the door, the wards had broken.

Pulling the door open slowly, with forced restraint, his eyes immediately found brown curls and a familiar peach sweater. The witch who had been troubling his mind the past few days—longer, perhaps—was not wearing her normal Gryffindor robes. But why should she? She wasn't required to go to classes, or to the Great Hall for meals, so she wasn't required to wear her school robes.

"Miss Granger?" He hoped his voice didn't sounded strained. "I'm glad you chose to knock, this time." He gave her a small smirk.

"Well, since you haven't been eating in the Great Hall for lunch, I figured this was the first place I should try to look for you. Besides, I wouldn't want to abuse your patience with me by breaking your new wards—again." She seemed in good spirits. She was smiling up at him in the same way she had the other day. He was finding himself becoming more familiar with the way her cheeks lifted and her eyes automatically shone brightly with the smiles she gifted him.

"I doubt you could break my wards a third time, but your panic-stricken magic ceases to amaze me, so I'd rather you just knock."

"When I'm not panic-stricken, I'll be sure to just knock," she said, smile growing wider.

His gut felt like it was performing summersaults. He found, as she continued to stare directly into his eyes, he didn't know what else to say.

"So…" she bounced up onto the balls of her feet, peering around him and into his private lab. "I was hoping I could trouble you for another book? I finished _Wuthering Heights_ Tuesday evening and have been itching for another piece of muggle literature. Do you have anything else by Emily Brontë?

Standing off to the side and opening the door wider, he beckoned her inside with a sweep of his hand. She smiled gratefully and walked past him, heading towards the door that lead to his sitting room. He watched her, aware of how his heart sped as he lingered over her form. He forced his eyes away from her and instead over to the potion he had been working on. "You are caught up with your studies?" he asked, just to break the silence between them.

She turned back to him and shrugged. He also noticed her grimace. "It seems as if my professors haven't been assigning much homework this week." He watched as her eyes flitted up to his, then dropped back down quickly. "I'm trying not to take it personally. I would hate for my professors to step back on their workload just because of…me. Especially when it's the NEWT year and, well, I'd hate to be the reason my other classmates were missing out on important—"

"Miss Granger," he interrupted her swiftly. He waved his hand and the wards to his sitting room released. "As you may recall from past years, October is the beginning of Quidditch season. Most professors, whether for NEWT-level classes or not, will take this into consideration for the first one to two weeks of the start of the season."

Again, she met his eyes, but held his gaze longer than before. "You never took it into consideration."

Severus smirked. "I did when I knew the Slytherin team would be playing." He stepped past her and into his sitting room, knowing she would be right behind him.

"Yet, the first match for Slytherin won't be until November, and your past two potions classes have barely assigned any homework at all." He could hear the suspicion in her statement.

"Are you complaining, Miss Granger? I assure you, I can assign you more homework if you so desire." He turned to her, his robes automatically swishing around him, and met her gaze, despite his insides screaming at him to look anywhere but at her.

His statement was meant to come off teasingly, but she crossed her arms and argued, "As I said, I'm not worried so much about myself as I am my other classmates. I want things to go on as they normally would, for the sake of others if not just for myself."

"The professors at this school are not heartless. They are also not unbiased. Nor, however, are they idiotic enough to hold back every other pupil they teach for the sake of one. If your assignments have been relaxed, it could be that it is because they are _your_ assignments."

The Gryffindor's mouth fell open in an amusing manner. "But then that means _I'm_ being held back!"

Severus shook his head at her silliness. "Do you truly believe any of the professors here would question your ability to catch up with the rest of the class after you've had ample time to recover? Appreciate that the headmistress has even allowed you to receive assignments. Calm yourself and focus on feeling well enough to attend your classes again as you normally would."

He watched as she opened her mouth to argue, but he held her gaze steadily, knowing that any argument she made wouldn't rule out his own. With difficulty, he noted, she closed her mouth and frowned at him, but he noticed as she turned towards his bookshelves that a light pink flush had begun creeping into her cheeks.

"So, you enjoyed Emily Brontë's novel, did you?" he asked her as she kneeled down to better browse his collection of muggle fiction.

"Very much so," she replied.

"Unfortunately, she didn't publish any other known novels. But, my next recommendation would either be Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_ , or Charles Dicken's _Great Expectations_." He knelt beside her, keenly aware of their closeness, and pointed out the two volumes he had suggested.

"Are those also muggle classics?" Miss Granger asked, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of each book in turn, as if she could sense their stories through her fingertips.

"I only own classics." His voice had become thick, most unlike its normal sardonic tone, as he continued to watch her caress his books. She lingered over _Frankenstein_ and let her fingers rest at the top. She turned and locked her eyes onto his, unabashedly. His breath caught in his throat as student and professor held one another still. He became agonizingly aware that her face was a mere foot from his.

Unable to help himself, he spoke the _Legilimens_ incantation, just strongly enough to get a taste of the emotions she felt as she held onto his gaze. He was suddenly overcome with feelings of warmth and contentment. Pulling back out, dazed by the openness of her mind and the softly smothering warmth it radiated, he broke eye contact and looked instead at where her fingers continued to linger.

She gently slid the book from its chosen space on his shelf and held it in both hands. They both stared at it. Together and silent.

-HG-

What had happened?

After their bantering, after his subtle display of concern for her, and his easy book recommendations, they had locked eyes and her professor's voice had taken on a husky tone. Then she had felt the strangest feeling—the best way she could describe it would be to say it had been the softest of prods in her mind, similar but not the same as when she had been extracting her memories. Had Snape looked into her mind? If he had, it must not have been very deep or for very long. From what she understood, legilimency was very uncomfortable. But if he had entered her mind, even for a moment, what had he seen?

Harry had told her that legilimency was not like mind-reading. You couldn't simply read a person's thoughts. It was navigating their mind and seeing certain memories. So, in that moment, had he seen her struggling not to think about him the last few days? Had he possibly felt the longing she had been experiencing? The longing to be with him? Whatever it was he saw or felt, it had caused him to break eye contact with her. Had she embarrassed him? Was he now going to ask her to leave? She was about to say something, anything, when he broke the silence instead.

"I must prepare for my next class."

Hermione searched his face for any signs of how he could be feeling, or what he could be thinking. Her worry began to mount as he turned away from her completely. "Professor…?" Her voice came out small and weak, and she wasn't sure how to ask him what she was thinking.

"If you would like to take the book with you back to Professor Weasley's sitting room, you are more than welcome to," he said, his tone flat and unrelenting.

"Professor…" and instead of asking him if he had looked into her mind, she instead said, "I was hoping I could stay."

She watched as he stopped just before entering his lab. He turned to her slowly, and as if she knew he was going to suggest she return to Mrs. Weasley's sitting room, she continued, more confidently, "I really enjoy being here. It doesn't feel as lonely as the rest of the castle."

He seemed to hesitate. Squaring his shoulders, his eyebrows furrowing, he asked, "Even while I'm not here?"

Focusing on his tenebrous irises, Hermione nodded. It was true. She felt lonely everywhere else in the castle when she couldn't be with someone. But even when he wasn't with her, as long as she was curled up on his couch, she didn't feel lonely. Or afraid.

"If being here will put you at ease…" he trailed off, his eyes searching her face as she had tried to search his moments before.

"It does. It always does," she said without hesitation.

He gave her a curt nod and then turned again to leave the room. He closed the door behind him and put the wards back up. Hermione realized he had not told her when he was to return. Trying not to let this bother her, she walked over to his couch and made herself comfortable. Even though she knew that if anyone else were to know of the comfort she found in his sitting room, they would surely question it, she found she couldn't bring herself to care. She didn't feel this safe with her friends, except maybe Harry. And while she felt safe with both Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall, she always felt like she was a burden, or invading their space. For reasons she was only now beginning to realize, she didn't feel like a burden nor an intruder to Snape's sitting room. She felt only contentment.

She set _Frankenstein_ in her lap and glanced around the sitting room, to see if it had changed at all since she last visited. Nothing seemed to be noticeably different, but she found herself realizing for the first time that his sitting room wasn't as dim as his potions classroom or lab. She guessed this was because most potions and their ingredients did better in certain lighting and cooler temperatures. The room's fire was lit, most likely enchanted to continue burning throughout the day to keep the room at a comfortable temperature. But the lanterns around the room gave off a calming, golden glow that neither Mrs. Weasley's or Professor McGonagall's rooms had. His sitting room felt homier to her than either of the other rooms, including the private room she was given on her arrival. She knew it was in part due to the bookshelves, but she also knew it had to do with the fact that, well, the room belonged to _him_.

No matter how hard she tried to resist the idea, it was becoming blatantly obvious to her that the way she felt about Professor Snape was not like how she felt about any of her other professors. It was more like how she had felt towards Remus, but…still different. Remus she had adored, looked up to, admired, and, yes, harbored a very long crush for alongside her crush for Ron. But her feelings towards the potions master was, well, slightly embarrassing, and complicated, and much stronger than her crush on Remus had been.

She remembered when they had been involved in a private potion lesson in her sixth year and it was one of the occasions that her professor seemed even grouchier than normal. However, it had been the day that she had mentioned to Ron about inviting him to Slughorn's party and so she herself was feeling happier than normal. And also slightly more gutsy, too. So when her professor had mumbled something about needing some more potion ingredients, but not having the time to go to the forest that week to collect what he needed, she had blurted out to him, "You really should get out more, Sir." And, realizing she had spoken her thoughts out loud, her face flared pink and her eyes widened. They flitted up to her professor in time to see his thunderous expression.

"Have I ever given you the indication that I particularly care about your opinions, Miss Granger?" she remembered him snapping at her.

"No, Sir," she remembered mumbling. But in that moment she realized, while the rest of his expression seemed furious, his eyes did not. They seemed surprised. As if he couldn't imagine a student caring enough about his well-being to even _think_ about his need to "get out more".

Pushing the memory aside, not knowing quite what to make of it or why it had suddenly come to the forefront of her mind, she sighed to herself and examined his volume of Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_. She had, of course, heard of Frankenstein's Monster, the fictitious character who plagued some children's nightmares. But she had never known the story to have originated in the early nineteenth century. She wanted to know more about why Snape was so well-versed in classical muggle literature. Had his father and mother promoted it over magical literature? He had mentioned being poor. Were these books perhaps hand-me-downs from his parents or neighbors?

 _I wish he wasn't still so closed off to me…_ she thought sadly to herself. She wanted to know more about him. From him.

Opening the book, she thought it best to begin reading instead of continuously thinking about him, as she had been doing practically all of yesterday and the day before.

He did not return after his class. And he did not return before dinner. She called for Winky, and sure enough the little house elf appeared, immediately asking Hermione how she could be of assistance. Hermione asked if she could bring up some soup from the kitchen, and Winky obliged. Professor Snape had still not returned by the time Winky delivered the soup to Hermione, so the witch produced a galleon from her bag and gave it to Winky, who took it begrudgingly.

Professor Snape still did not return after Hermione had finished her soup, and she was beginning to feel tired around nine o'clock. Taking a chance, she poked her head into his private lab, hoping to see him there even if she hadn't heard him enter. But the room was empty. Sighing to herself, and admitting that he was most likely avoiding her, she placed _Wuthering Heights_ back where she had found it, gathered up her bag and _Frankenstein_ and, not knowing which wards he used, decided to use floo powder to return to Mrs. Weasley's sitting room.

Mrs. Weasley wasn't in her sitting room when she arrived, which Hermione was thankful for because she didn't feel much like talking to anyone. She quickly got ready for bed and then lied down on the couch. Maybe, if she pretended to already be asleep by the time Mrs. Weasley returned, she wouldn't be bothered.

She tossed and turned and finally fell asleep shortly before eleven. Mrs. Weasley had since returned, but had not spoken to Hermione, most likely thinking her to already have fallen asleep.

Hermione fitfully slipped into dreams of simmering cauldrons, dark dungeons, and a warm fire place. Strong arms, cloaked in black, wrapped around her, and she felt at peace…

-SS-

Severus made it back to his rooms around two in the morning. One glance around the room and he knew she had left. _Of course_ , he thought to himself. _She has a perfectly appropriate, safe place to sleep with Molly. It would be silly for her to sleep here. Besides, I'd have to ask her to leave if she had. And Molly would be worried._ Ignoring the ache in his stomach at her absence, he trudged into his bedroom and undressed.

He was exhausted, but still found himself tossing and turning in bed. His mind had been full of her whenever it had down-time. In between classes, at dinner, after dinner during his meeting with Minerva, and all through his wanderings of the castle during his after-hours patrol. He was still mulling over the sensations he had felt from her mind earlier. The warmth, the tenderness, the complete contentedness. And if he had stayed in her mind longer, what else would he have felt? And did he want to know? Things were already beginning to spiral out of his control. The way he felt when she looked at him. The way the movements of her hands caused his heart to race. How the thought of her alone with him caused his palms to sweat. And on top of all that, her desire to be in his space. And how it did not bother him in the _normal_ way. He should feel intruded upon. He should feel guarded and annoyed. But instead he felt… content. Content to have her there, content to know she wanted to be there, content to know she felt safe and welcome there.

He rolled over, and then to his other side, and then onto his back, grinding his teeth in frustration as her face continued to appear behind his closed eyelids.

Finally, around four in the morning, he fitfully slipped into dreams of warm peach and soft brown and books. A warm body was wrapped in his arms and he breathed in the scent of lavender as he floated off, finally at peace…

A/N: Thank you all for your continuous support! Please bear with me as my updates will take longer. This chapter was slightly harder for me to write since it's before a "larger" event and, though I'm not sure if that event will happen in the following chapter, it will happen soon! As always, thank you for your faves, follows and comments! I'm so excited to have almost 40 faves and over 120 followers! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story as much as I'm enjoying the writing of it!


	16. Chapter 16 - Cadente (Falling)

Chapter 16

Cadente

(Falling)

Although Professor McGonagall seemed hesitant, Hermione convinced her that she felt ready to attend her Advanced Arithmancy and Advanced Ancient Runes classes. Both classes had only about twelve classmates, and Luna was in her Advanced Ancient Runes class, and she didn't need to go to the Great Hall for meals if she didn't feel up to it. That could wait until next week, she decided.

Advanced Arithmancy went by easily enough, since there was only one Slytherin seventh-year, a girl by the name of Amanda Bletchley, the younger sister of Miles Bletchley. However, she only gave Hermione a smirk, and otherwise kept to herself. Hermione received a few curious glances from the three Hufflepuffs and four Ravenclaws in the class. The three Gryffindors besides Hermione, all from Ginny's year, gave her weak smiles, but didn't say anything. She hoped that meant Ginny had been adamantly defending her to all the Gryffindors who were curious as to what had happened.

Hermione focused intently on the hour-long lesson, ignoring any glances from the other students. A quarter before the class ended, her heart began to race at the prospect of her private lesson with Snape. How would he behave? Hopefully he would at least be willing to hold a private lesson with her. The bell rang, and she checked her watch. Lunch first, then the private lesson. What if she went to him early? He had been in his private lab yesterday at lunch, would he be there again today?

Her feet seemed to make her decision, leading her down into the dungeons. Thoughts of trying to find her friends were pushed aside. She needed to know if he was truly avoiding her, or if he had just been busy the previous day.

She arrived at the door to his private lab sooner than she had expected. Tentatively, she raised her hand and gave a quiet knock. She waited a few seconds, but the wards did not fall, and there was no sound of footsteps approaching the door. She raised her hand again, knocking louder this time. Again, she waited, but the door did not open. She sensed, though, that he was on the other side.

"I bet I could break these wards if I tried hard enough!" she called through the door, forcing her voice to sound more confident than she felt.

Three seconds passed, then his wards fell and the door swung open. Heart beating rapidly, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Her eyes found her professor immediately.

He was bent over his work bench, entirely focused on the cauldron in front of him. He didn't glance up at her as she approached, but she wished he had. Once again, she was seeing him in a way she was sure no other student had. His teacher's robes and frock coat were hung up on the wall behind him and his white button-up shirt's sleeves were rolled up to the top of his biceps. She noticed the same bright, flesh-colored lines she had seen a few weeks ago along his neck and back, but there were some also poking out from beneath where his rolled-up sleeves stopped. She had completely forgotten about them, until now. His hair was pulled back. Instead of hanging on the sides of his face, he had tied it so that it didn't prove cumbersome while he brewed. Again she felt paralyzed at the sight of his strong, angular jaw-line and the way his furrowed, concentrated brows caused the side of his face to appear… handsome.

 _Good gods_ … she whispered, only to herself.

How could the man she had known for almost half her life look so different to her by just the shedding of a few layers of clothes and the change in hair style? It wasn't that he looked ugly to her when his hair was loose, and his frock coat and robes were on, but now, he looked so relaxed…and yet dangerous—completely in his element.

She took a few slow steps closer to where he stood and watched the muscles in his arms ripple with the movements of his practiced hands and fingers as he chopped, sliced, crushed, and eventually added multiple ingredients to the potion. He moved his right index finger in a circular motion and his stirring rod began mixing the contents of the potion in a clock-wise motion. As his finger continued the circular motions, he rested his other hand on the desk and bent over the small leather-bound book that lay open below him. She could make out his dark eyes flying back and forth over the page from beneath his lush black eyelashes.

It wasn't the first time Hermione had felt enraptured while watching him. She had felt spell-bound by his movements at least once every year since he had been her professor, and almost every time they had brewed together in her sixth year. But this felt different. She felt like she could hardly breathe. _Everything_ about the two of them was beginning to feel different to her.

He used his wand to adjust the flame beneath the cauldron and then gently closed the book. She watched as his face lifted and his eyes instantly found hers. "You're early."

Was she just imaging it, or had his voice once again taken on the husky quality she had heard in his sitting room yesterday?

Her throat felt dry, but she managed to croak out, "I didn't feel like trying to track down Ginny and the others and… I'm not hungry." All of this was true. She may've been hungry towards the end of her Advanced Arithmancy class, but ever since she laid eyes on him, her stomach seemed not to need any sustenance.

"So you decided to interrupt _my_ lunch?" His tone was still husky, but throatier. She felt a shiver travel down her spine.

"I've never seen you eat lunch, Professor." She managed a murmur. His eyes had still not left hers, and they continued to hold her gaze as the silence between them grew louder. All thoughts of him having purposefully avoiding her washed away. If he had been trying to avoid her, surely he wouldn't be pinning her down so forcefully with his fierce gaze. Was he going to perform Legilimency on her again? Should she ask him if he had done so yesterday, and why?

"Since this potion needs to simmer for just under an hour, we can begin your lesson early, if you so desire." He was beginning to roll down his sleeves.

"Don't," Hermione blurted. Her face turned beat red as his eyebrow arched with their trademark quality.

"Don't, what, Miss Granger?"

"Where did those…" she found it hard to form a coherent sentence, so she pointed, stupidly, to the markings on his upper arms. "What are they?"

At first, she was afraid she had crossed a line. His face hardened but did not become a glare or scowl. It simply looked as if he was remembering something extremely unpleasant. He probably was, she realized, and suddenly felt ashamed for having asked.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I shouldn't have—"

"They are scars," he answered swiftly.

Taking a chance, she asked, "Scars? But why haven't you—"

Again, he interrupted her. "Heal them?" He turned away and began gathering what they would need for their lesson; a cauldron, their current scribblings of notes of what they've tried thus far and what they still needed to try, and ingredients from his private store room.

"Well, yes," she replied, automatically falling into step beside him and picking up more ingredients she knew they would need, and some she thought could potentially prove useful.

"These scars cannot be healed, Miss Granger. They are from cursed instruments."

This time, it was an entirely unpleasant shiver that ran up her spine. She trembled.

He noticed and stopped collecting ingredients to turn and intently survey her face.

"Were they from… a knife?" she asked, unable to stop her voice from quivering.

He set the ingredients he had collected down on the counter in the store room and turned to face her. She knew his eyes were searching hers, trying to pull them up so that they met his instead of staring down at the adder fork and armadillo bile.

"Not a knife, no," he replied, softly, gently. "Enchanted whips, chains, ropes, among other things, but no knives."

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes snapped up to his. He was implying that he had been tortured, yet spoke of it nonchalantly, as if it were old news, as if it didn't matter. She realized her mouth was hanging open and forced it closed. She didn't know what to say.

"Why did you suggest a knife?" he asked, his eyes continuing to roam her face.

"I… it was just a guess," she stuttered. Only a handful of people knew of the torture she underwent at Malfoy manor, and three were dead, three were out of the public eye, and the others were Harry, Ron, Luna, Dean and Mr. Ollivander. She had never told McGonagall, nor Mrs. Weasley, and she and the others who knew never spoke of it. She still had nightmares at least once a week regarding her torture, but it was near impossible to talk about it with anyone.

"Miss Granger," her professor soothed. "You're an awful liar."

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him, defiantly. "I wasn't an awful liar when Bellatrix repeatedly used the Cruciatus curse on me as I writhed on the floor of Malfoy manor," she spat, more anger in her voice than she had intended.

She watched as Snape's face paled. She hadn't thought that to be possible. He was already so pale, yet there he stood, her words causing his features to become death-like with shock.

But then his face flushed, not with embarrassment, but with fury. He slammed his fist down onto the counter top and Hermione jumped at the loud cracking noise. She dropped the armadillo bile, stepping back as the vial shattered. She was so taken aback at her professor's sudden lack of control that she just stood, frozen, staring at Snape. Strands of his hair had fallen around his face and his shoulders trembled with his labored breathing. He drew his wand, flicked it at the armadillo bile, repairing the vial and its contents and sending it into the waste bin.

Hermione faintly registered that the bile was now contaminated, having made contact with the stone floor. She felt embarrassed for having dropped it. "I'm sorry, Professor. Let me grab another." She made to move around him to retrieve another vial, but his hand shot out and caught her arm.

Hermione gasped. His grip was firm, but not painful, not like it had been the day she had come into his private lab unannounced. She slowly brought her eyes to his face, but it was turned away from her, hanging down towards the floor. Strands of raven hair swayed with his breaths. He looked tormented.

And beautiful.

" _Never_ apologize to me again, Miss Granger. I do not care if you destroy every ingredient in this store room. Your apology… I cannot… I do not ever deserve to hear your apology."

She didn't understand. She tossed the adder fork onto the counter gently and then rested her now empty hand on his, where he had grabbed her. His hand was just as warm as she remembered. She applied pressure onto his knuckles and instinctively rubbed her thumb along the side of his wrist. She had done the same to Ron when he had been recovering from being splinched. It was the only thing she could think to do. Well, not the only thing, but the most appropriate.

Merlin, she was really beginning to loathe that word.

-SS-

She was touching him. Her hand was resting over his and her thumb was tenderly smoothing over the skin on the side of his wrist. It felt wonderful and terrible at the same time. It was helping to calm him, quite remarkably, but it was also causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably. This was not how a student should be touching her professor. They shouldn't be touching at all. And yet… he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

"Professor, please say something. I—I don't know what you mean." Her voice was quiet, but unwavering.

"I should have been there. I should have stopped—" his voice came out strangled and he desperately tried to regain his composure. He was still clutching to her arm and she was still rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "I could have helped you," he whispered.

As if she was finally comprehending what he was saying, Miss Granger let out a soft sigh, her hand gently squeezing his. "Never once have I blamed you for not being there, Professor," she whispered back. "Even after I had proof that you had been on our side, never once did I find myself wishing you had somehow come to our—my—aid in the Malfoy manor. To do so would have been to give yourself away. It would have ruined everything. Even if you had been there, I would not have expected you to help me."

"That is because you thought I was on _their_ side," he spat out.

Out of his peripherals he could see her shaking her head. "No. Even after I knew you had been on our side, and if you were given the chance to go back and change things, I would not have wanted you to give away your position for me. I was willing to die. And I'd be willing to die again, if it came to that."

He let her words sink in. They calmed him but did not ease the pain he felt for her. She had suffered so much, so young, and she would do it all again. He finally forced his eyes to find hers and saw warmth and concern in them, for him. It made him want to crumple and yell in frustration at the same time. This Gryffindor, her of all people, should not care about him!

He pulled himself upright, releasing his grip and slipping his hand out from under hers. He watched as her face fell and almost couldn't bear it. He turned back to the potion ingredients he had, smartly, abandoned on the counter. Without looking at her, he grunted, "She also tortured you by use of a knife."

It came out as a statement rather than a question, but still she answered, "Yes. To threaten Harry and Ron. It left its mark…here."

His body forced him to turn even though his mind was screaming for him not to look. She had pulled down the collar of her shirt and school robes and revealed a red, barely noticeable scar on her neck. His stomach clenched painfully again.

"Luckily, it's not that noticeable. But I can't conceal it or heal it by means of magic. I read up on cursed weapons and quickly realized it would never heal, and that it would always repel magic. Sometimes muggle makeup will cover it, but usually dissolves within an hour due to the curse."

He turned away, unwilling to look at it any longer.

"Professor," she reached out and lightly touched his forearm. "I will say again. I don't at all blame you for this. And I never will." His skin seemed to burn where she touched it.

He forced himself to move away from her. He used his wand to summon another vial of armadillo bile and then walked, resolutely, back out into his private lab. Lunch had concluded and already five minutes had passed into their allotted time for their private lesson. He needed to focus on something else. Walking over to the cauldron he had set aside for them to begin brewing, he set the ingredients he held onto the desk and glanced down at their notes.

She was by his side moments later. She set the adder fork alongside the other ingredients. "If you don't believe me, look into my mind like you did yesterday."

His entire body tensed. So she had felt his brief penetration into her mind and had known what it meant. And yet, she didn't seem bothered by it. On the contrary, she was inviting him to do it again. He should feel ashamed, or angry, or both, but instead he just felt…confused.

"I should not have done that," he grumbled, beginning to slice dandelion roots.

"I'll admit at having been confused at first, but then I just realized I cared more about your reasoning behind the action and not the action itself," the young witch replied, matter-of-factly. She began sorting the ingredients by the order they were to add them into the potion.

"You should be furious with me." He was doing his best to cut the dandelion roots quickly, as he normally did, but found he had to slow down in order to be as precise as he was usually under regular circumstances.

"Perhaps," she said, shrugging. "And yet I really just want to know why you felt the need to…look."

He wasn't sure how to answer. He wasn't sure that he should answer. And yet, he found not to do so would be to upset her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. "I often find myself wondering why it is you continuously seek my sitting room as your sanctuary." He decided that would be the safest answer, and while not complete, still truthful.

When she didn't reply he glanced at her and was surprised to see that her cheeks had flushed a bright red. He quickly resumed focusing on his task but felt the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

"I… like I said before, I feel safe around you," she stuttered.

"Yet you stay in my sitting room while I am not there," he pressed, intrigued now.

"It feels different to me than anywhere else in the castle," she explained.

"Hmmmm," he hummed in reply, the corners of his mouth lifting higher. He knew she wasn't telling him everything, and he found her hesitancy amusing. Surely it wasn't as embarrassing as she made it out to be.

"It feels homelier," she whispered, her voice so small that at first he had to replay the sounds she made so he could be sure he had heard her correctly.

"Homelier?" He didn't even attempt to conceal the curiosity in his voice now. He wanted to know what she meant.

"I suppose it's all the books and… just a feeling of familiarity that I don't feel anywhere else in the castle when I need—or want—to be alone."

"Should I be concerned that you are devising a plan to evict me from my own sitting room so that you can have it instead?" He glanced at her and smirked.

Her blush had lessened. She gave a small laugh and replied, "Now that would be something. Maybe we should trade rooms? You could have mine and I could have your sitting room."

"There is no way you would ever find me curling up on that bed adorned in Gryffindor colors. And my books would miss me." It felt nice to banter with her. Easy. Unemotional, for the most part.

"You curl up when you sleep?" she asked, her voice taking on a tone of incredulousness.

"Had you instead envisioned me to sleep like a plank? I may be callous, Miss Granger, but sleep is sleep."

"I actually envisioned you on your back with one arm under your pillow," she replied, but her tone wasn't teasing. He glanced at her, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. Was she being serious?

She avoided his eyes and instead began smashing the porcupine quills into a fine powder. A heavy silence settled between them as each fell into their own thoughts.

She had imagined what he looked like while he slept? And she was accepting of his brief explanation that he wanted to know why she enjoyed his sitting room. And she had admitted it was because it felt _homely_. Severus wasn't stupid. He knew what these signs pointed to, but he didn't dare put stock in the idea that she felt the same way as he did for her. Even if, miraculously, she did feel the same way, they would not be able to act on their feelings. She was his pupil, he her professor.

And he could just be drawing the wrong conclusion. She could see him as being an intelligent and powerful wizard, a hero of sorts, and, not being able to seek comfort in Potter or Weasley, gravitated towards him instead. It could be that simple.

"I should probably head to my next lesson," she said quietly, pulling him out from his thoughts.

"Ah, yes," he mumbled.

"About upsetting you earlier…" she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Do not apologize."

She gave him a small smile and nodded, then offered to help him clean up.

"I have a free period, so I would like to continue what we've started. If I work quickly, I should be able to have it simmering within the hour. If you'd like, you could come by tomorrow and we can examine the results."

"I'd like that," she replied. Then she grabbed her bag and made to leave.

Just as she opened the door he called, "I hope your first lesson went alright, and that your next one goes well." He hoped no students happened to be passing by at that time. He didn't need his other students to be witness to Miss Granger leaving his private lab, nor hear him offering her comforting words.

"Thank you, Professor," she said quietly. She held his gaze longer than she normally would have, then left, allowing the door to close softly behind her.

His gut felt heavy with the sudden absence of her…

-HG-

"You're… you're going away for the weekend?" Hermione was sitting on Mrs. Weasley's couch later that evening, just having finished a bowl of pea and potato soup.

"I'm so sorry, dear. With everything going on I completely forgot to let you know that Minerva—Professor McGonagall—and I have made an agreement that once a month I am permitted to spend the weekend at home, with Arthur. She takes over my nightly routines of covering for Hagrid while I'm away."

"Oh…that's nice," Hermione said, feeling her stomach beginning to form tight knots. This would mean she would have to stay, by herself, each night for the next two nights. She hadn't been alone overnight since the incident.

"You'll be perfectly safe here, with my wards. Or we could ask Professor McGonagall if she would be alright with you staying in her sitting room until I return?" It was clear that Mrs. Weasley was trying to go out of her way to make sure that Hermione was going to be comfortable.

"No, that's alright, Professor," Hermione said, shaking her head and forcing a smile. "I should be fine for the two nights, I'm sure." She didn't want to bother the headmistress, nor did she want to move around again.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley asked with her familiar motherly concern.

Hermione forced a wider smile. "Yeah, of course. If I have any problems I'll just, erm, floo to the hadmistress' sitting room, if that would be alright?"

"Of course. I keep the floo powder next to the mantle there," and the older witch pointed over to a small tortoiseshell box.

"Great, but I'm sure I won't need it," Hermione insisted.

"Alright then, I'll be off. I'll see you Sunday evening, dear." And Mrs. Weasley grabbed her traveling cloak and walked out the door with a wave. Hermione listened as she warded the room, then leaned back onto the couch, her stomach still in knots.

She did _not_ want to be alone. And she did not want to bother the headmistress, who may not even be in her office or private rooms.

She tried to work on her Ancient Runes homework but couldn't concentrate. She took out _Frankenstein_ , thinking she would be able to finish it tonight, but found she couldn't focus on that, either. Knowing that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be returning that night caused her to feel nervous and jumpy.

 _I could use the floo to go to his sitting room_ , she thought to herself. But she shook her head, dismissing the idea. He would just tell her to go to the headmistress. _Still_ , she thought, _he might at least let me stay until my curfew._

Taking _Frankenstein_ with her, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire. Green flames burst out at her and she stepped confidently into them. "Professor Snape's sitting room," she said clearly, and the next thing she knew she was spinning and then flying, unceremoniously, out of his fireplace.

Arms outstretched, she flew forwards and, if it hadn't been for two strong arms catching her, she would have landed face-first on his sitting room carpet.

"Miss Granger?"

She struggled to her feet and looked up into his face. He was still holding her by her arms, probably making sure she was able to steady herself. She was suddenly very aware of their close proximity. For an eternity, it seemed to her, they held each other's eyes, their faces closer than they had ever been before. She could feel his warm breath and smell the faint scents of parchment, ink, metal, and a spicy-sweet fragrance she couldn't place. She had never been close enough to smell him, but now that she could, it made her feel pleasantly dizzy.

"Miss Granger, why are you not with Professor Weasley?"

He had finally straightened himself, pulling her to a standing position with him. He stepped back from her slightly and then dropped his hands from her arms, staring down at her with concern. "Is everything alright?" He was surveying her face, possibly looking for signs of distress.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm fine. Kind of."

He scowled, clearly annoyed with her vague statement.

"Did you know that Professor Weasley leaves the school one weekend a month to be with Mr. Weasley?" she asked, bluntly.

Her professor's scowl dropped and he seemed to be searching his memory. "Ah, yes, I do remember the headmistress mentioning an agreement of the sort. Am I to understand that this weekend is the weekend Professor Weasley is scheduled to be at her home instead of Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes flitting down to her feet, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the implication he was surely making; that she was not comfortable enough to be alone while Mrs. Weasley was out.

"And did Professor Weasley offer you another option as you are uncomfortable with being alone?"

"She mentioned Professor McGonagall…" her voice trailed off, pathetically.

"And did the floo network somehow manage to confuse 'Headmistress' sitting room' with 'Professor Snape's sitting room'?"

She looked at him and saw a wide smirk on his face.

She tried to look annoyed with him, but knew she was failing miserably. "No. I don't want to bother the headmistress."

"Yet you have no issue with bothering _me_?"

"Obviously," she replied, brazenly.

He rolled his eyes and she was taken aback to realize that was probably the most playful expression he had ever given her, and she found it somewhat endearing.

"You know you can't stay here, Miss Granger," he drawled, folding his arms across his chest and pinning her with his eyes.

"There's still three more hours until my curfew. I was hoping I could stay here until then." She forced her tone to sound sweet and hopeful, without it sounding pathetically pleading.

"And proceed to sleep by yourself in Professor Weasley's sitting room?" her professor asked, disbelieving.

"If I feel confident enough. If not, I'll just have to impose on the headmistress…again."

She watched as he sighed through his nose and sat down in his armchair, folding his hands in his lap and staring into the fire, which had turned back to its normal warm colors. "Fine. I'll let you stay here until curfew."

She smiled at him and thanked him, then headed to the couch to curl up and read. Maybe, if she finished _Frankenstein_ quickly, she'd be able to start on another one of his books before she had to leave.

She had been reading for about ten minutes when she saw her professor stand and walk over to the couch. He summoned his chair and sat across from her, as he had done before. He was sipping on a drink that looked like elderflower wine and held a book in his other hand. He was still wearing his white button-up shirt and black pants and dragon hide boots but had leaned back in the chair and propped one foot over his other leg. Hermione looked back down at her book, then snuck another glance at her professor. The firelight danced across the areas of his face where his hair didn't obscure. He took another sip from the glass he held, and she watched, entranced, as his lips parted, his adam's apple rose and fell, and he allowed some of the red liquid to stay pooled on his lips.

He cleared his throat and she started, her eyes darting from his lips to his dark irises, which were staring at her, curiously. She could feel a blush creeping up and forced her eyes back down to her book. She scolded herself for having stared at him so openly and then focused on her book, not wanting to cause him to feel uneasy and possibly suggest she leave.

She didn't want to be anywhere else. She would stay there for as long as she could, as long as he would let her.

-SS-

Severus watched as Granger pulled herself into her book. She had been watching him moments before, as he drank his elderflower wine, and he had allowed her to do so before he felt that if she were to stare any longer she would be sure to burn a hole or cause him to sigh in frustration at least.

But. She should _not_ look at him like that.

She should not be there, with him, either, and yet there she was, her feet curled up under her and hair sprawled down over her shoulders as her eyes weaved back and forth with the words of the book. His book. All of this was becoming much too intimate. And yet… what was the harm, really? They were just reading. She was comfortable here and she was where he could be sure she was safe. And he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her company, however unexpected, he found that he hoped for it.

He had become engrossed in his own book and had soon lost track of the time. When he looked up next, he saw that it was nearly midnight. He made to reprimand her for not keeping her eye on the time but stopped himself as soon as his eyes found her.

She was lying on her side, his book propped up against her chest, her mouth slightly open, her eyes closed peacefully. Her side rose and fell steadily with her breathing and her school skirt had fallen to the side, hitching up her legs. From the angle he was at, Severus could make out her white panties. He felt his face go beat red. He gave a nervous gulp.

A few minutes must have passed before he consciously realized that his eyes were hungrily lingering on every inch of her body. Shutting his eyes tightly, he managed to take a deep, yet shaking, breath in through his nose and slowly released it through slightly parted lips. His mind frantically began searching for a decision, a course of action to take, as he knew he had to make one.

Opening his eyes warily, he forced himself to look at her face and only her face. He stood up and approached her cautiously. Should he wake her? He knew she didn't get much sleep...and yet here she was, peacefully asleep in his private sitting room. Should he let her stay? What would the headmistress say if she found out? What would Miss Granger think, once she awoke? And how could he possibly get to sleep himself...knowing she was out on his couch, looking like...that.

"Miss Granger," he said softly.

She continued to sleep.

He tried again. "...Hermione?"

She let out a small moan and it was such an adorable sound that it caused his heart to stir in his chest uncomfortably. She moved ever so slightly, causing the book to slip lower down her chest and her skirt to hitch even higher up her thigh, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. This entire situation was both unbearable and arousing for him at the same time.

Being sure to keep his eyes focused on her skirt, and not her bare skin, he gently, oh so gently, pulled down the fabric so that her panties were completely covered. Which, obviously, was not what he _wanted_ to do, but what he knew was right. He then quietly walked into his bedroom and searched around for something to cover her with in case she became cold. He had half the mind to just lift her up and put her in his bed, but he cursed inwardly at the absurdity of the thought. Finding a small, dark green blanket folded atop his dresser, he cast a _Turgeo_ to clean it of any dust and proceeded back into the sitting room.

She was still lying there, fast asleep. Careful not to brush her face with the blanket, he placed it over her, fully concealing her feet, legs and the majority of her upper body. Feeling better now that she was mostly concealed from him, he let out a sigh and retreated back to his bedroom. He left the door ajar, in case she awoke and needed something.

Climbing into his bed he leaned back into his pillow and allowed himself a smirk. He, Severus Snape, concerned about whether she would be cold and comfortable. To think that a mere three years ago he had barely been able to stand the witch. How so much could change within that time.

 _But not enough_...he thought sadly to himself.

Rolling over onto his side, he closed his eyes and saw her in his mind, sleeping on his couch, safe and warm under one of his blankets. He fell asleep to the image of her lips parted and her cheeks glowing softly.

A/N: Hi guys! I'll try to pick up the pace with the plot, but there's a few more things our two eventual-love-birds have to go through before all the mushiness begins. Thanks for being patient and still enjoying the story! So glad to now be over 140 follows! Yippy!


	17. Chapter 17 - Fiducia (Confidence)

Chapter 17

Fiducia

(Confidence)

Hermione couldn't believe he had let her sleep in his sitting room. It was nearly four in the morning, but she had slept peacefully, without any nightmares. But, she was more embarrassed than grateful.

Once she had realized where she was, she had bolted upright and searched the room for her professor. That's when she noticed that one of his bookcases had vanished and in its place was a door made from the same wood the bookcase had been. The door had been left cracked open. She assumed that, if the door was left open, it wouldn't be able to transfiger back into a bookcase.

Heart pounding, she tip-toed to the door and peered through it, preparing herself for his stern voice to scold her for prying. Instead, she was met with a dim green-turquoise light shimmering along the dark stone floors and walls. The light, and its colors, came from the large window that, instead of revealing an outside landscape, revealed the depths of the Black Lake. It was beautiful, but not as breath-taking as the man laying sound asleep in his bed, positioned dead-center in the middle of the spacious room.

A large midnight blue blanket was sprawled over his form and he was lying on his back, one arm slung lazily over his front and the other resting somewhere beneath the blanket. From where she stood, she could make out his naked torso and the scars that swarmed his neck, upper chest, and shoulders. His face was the most serene she had ever seen it. He looked peaceful, harmless…handsome. She remembered how good he had smelled when he had been holding her just a few hours ago. She shook her head vigorously.

Her cheeks burned, her stomach was churning, and her head was spinning. This was Snape she was thinking about. Snape. Vindictive, dangerous, extremely private, Snape. Her professor. And she was openly ogling him while he slept, unawares—in a state of vulnerability she never in her life would have believed she would be privileged to witness.

Leaving the door exactly as it was, she tip-toed back to the couch, folded the blanket he had given her ( _Merlin, he had even thought enough to put a blanket on me!_ ) and grabbed her beaded bag. She summoned a piece of parchment, quill and ink and scribbled a quick note, leaving it atop the blanket. Then, as quietly as she could, she flooed back to Mrs. Weasley's sitting room and stumbled, tired and discombobulated, onto the couch.

There she fell asleep until the bright green flames from the fireplace in front of her awoke her hours later.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jolted awake, her hair flying up and then falling to rest all over her face, shoulders and back. She stared, bleary-eyed at the headmistress, who was standing in front of the fireplace with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Professor McGonagall! I—I— What time is it?" Hermione searched around the room for a clock but couldn't find one.

"It's just past noon—are you alright? Did you have a rough night?"

Hermione shook her head to clear it. Professor Snape. Falling into his arms. His sitting room. Falling asleep. Waking up. Seeing… _him_. Snape. It all came rushing back to her.

"Actually, I think that's the best sleep I've had since I've been in the castle," she croaked out, sheepishly.

"That's wonderful! I know Professor Weasley was concerned you may have felt too uncomfortable with her gone. I'm glad to hear you were able to get such good sleep even with her absence."

Hermione couldn't tell Professor McGonagall that the real reason she had slept so well was because she had fallen asleep in Professor Snape's sitting room, and had then fallen into a peaceful slumber again in the current sitting room due to thoughts of her curled up next to him in his bed. That would definitely _not_ do. Instead she muttered, "Truthfully, I didn't feel very confident when she left. I guess I was more exhausted than I thought."

"Well, I came to let you know that Mr. Potter is here to see you. He's waiting in my office. Would you like me to ask him to meet you somewhere, after you've had time to freshen up?" Her professor's eyes scanned her frizzy hair, the small smile continuing to tug at her lips.

"Oh!" Hermione had almost completely forgotten that her friend had said he would be back later in the week to check in with her. "Ye-yes, that would be great. Umm. I'm sure Ginny and the others would love to see him, too, so maybe you could ask him if we could meet out by the lake?"

"As it's been raining for quite some time now, I'm not sure that would be advisable," her headmistress replied, eyes twinkling.

Hermione felt so embarrassed, having been caught still sleeping lazily past noon, and also still in her school uniform from yesterday. She must look like a complete wreck.

"The library, then?" Hermione suggested.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Good idea. I'll let him know you'll be down to meet him there as soon as possible. I'm sure he won't miss the opportunity to seek out Miss Weasley in the meantime."

"Thank you, Professor." She stood up and saw that her legs were still covered in floo powder. Dusting herself off, she began straightening up the room.

"Did you floo somewhere earlier?" her headmistress asked. The floo powder had, apparently, not gone unnoticed.

Hermione blushed. "Ummm...yes, it must be from when I flooed to the kitchens for a late-night snack. I was so tired, I must not have noticed I had the powder stuck to me before I fell asleep."

The headmistress gave her a calculating look as she hummed. Hermione wondered whether or not she really could be as bad at lying as Snape had accused her of being. She forced her face not to flush and gave the elderly witch a small smile.

"Well, I'm just glad to see you're finally getting some rest, and eating well, too, it would seem." The headmistress gave her another quick once-over, then turned to leave.

When her headmistress had returned to her office, Hermione let out a relieved sigh, then burst out into nervous giggles. _What is going on with me?_ She asked herself, continuing to laugh at both herself, and at the strange predicament she had gotten into. How would she be able to face Harry and her friends as she remembered what it had been like to see Snape sleeping last night? How would she be able to face _him_ , now that she knew what he looked like when he slept? Her face flushed at the thought alone.

It was going to be a long week…

Hermione was too embarrassed to floo to Snape's sitting room that evening, even though she was again beginning to feel anxious at having to sleep alone. She weighed the pros and cons. Either find the courage to floo to his rooms and have to look at him and talk with him all the while maintaining a straight face, or find the courage to sleep by herself.

She decided on the latter, but she awoke at least once every hour, and even within that time frame had suffered from two terrible nightmares. She finally flooed to the kitchens around six in the morning, asking politely if a house elf wouldn't mind fixing her the strongest mug of coffee they could make. Surprisingly, it was Winky who offered to help her.

"Thanks so much, Winky," Hermione mumbled into her mug. The coffee was still too hot to drink, but the smell alone brought some life into her exhausted mind.

"Of course, Misses. It is the least Winky can do for her professor's favorite student."

Hermione almost choked on the small sip she had taken. "What-what?"

The house elf peered up at her with her big, watery brown eyes, both full of nothing but honesty. "He has not said the words, but Winky knows. She can see in the way he looks at you and moves around you."

Hermione felt her cheeks begin to burn. They seemed to be constantly burning nowadays. "I think maybe you're—" but she faltered, not knowing what to say. Thought she was what, exactly? That the house elf was inadept at observing Professor Snape? That she must be imagining things? House Elves were simple creatures, Hermione knew. Not inferior, but simpler than humans, simpler than most creatures, to be blunt. But, it was still highly unlikely that Winky was _imagining_ or misconstruing the things she saw that passed between her professor and Hermione.

"Well, if what you say is true, and I am his favorite—which might've been hard for me to believe a few years ago, but now doesn't seem entirely ridiculous—there's still no reason to serve me if you don't feel like it, Winky," Hermione assured her, sincerely.

"But Winky feels like it, Misses. You have added happiness to my professor. Happiness that was not there before. Winky can see his changes, and she knows they come from you."

Her? Give Professor Snape happiness? Now _that_ she found ridiculous. If anything, she had been a thorn in his side ever since the first day back, and it was only just over a month into the semester. Still, she decided against arguing with the little elf. She had wanted Winky's acceptance for so long, she wasn't about to push aside the elf's newfound liking for her by arguing about whether she added happiness to Professor Snape's life or not. "Thank you, Winky. I'm glad you're seeing a change in him." That was true. Whatever the reason for the positive changes Winky noticed, she was glad. He deserved happiness, despite what he, or other people, might think.

Suddenly, she knew she wanted to see him. She wanted to be with him, not her friends, and not cooped up in Mrs. Weasley's sitting room by herself.

"Winky, do you know if Professor Snape is awake?"

"Winky is sure he is, Misses. He does not sleep much."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Hermione in the least.

"Can I get to his sitting room using the fireplace here?" Hermione asked the house elf, turning to glance back at the fireplace she had earlier exited from.

"You-you could, Misses, but—"

"Winky, you said that I'm his favorite student. Do you think he would be upset if I went to him?"

"N-no, Misses, but he is sure to be feeling surprised."

"Bad surprised?" Hermione asked, grinning.

"Maybe not?"

It was clear that the poor little house elf didn't know what to make of this situation. But, having made up her mind, Hermione grabbed her cup of coffee, poured one for Snape as well (although she didn't know how he liked it, she decided he would most likely have his own milk and sugar in his quarters) and then tossed floo powder into the fireplace.

The green flames welcomed her and she stepped in confidently, a cup of coffee in each of her hands, and said clearly, "Professor Snape's sitting room."

This time, she didn't fall out.

-SS-

Seven in the morning. On a Sunday. And Granger was sauntering out of Severus' fireplace holding two mugs of what he assumed to be coffee.

Seven in the morning. On a Sunday.

What was happening?

He wasn't even properly dressed. He had on his favorite black slacks, a white, long-sleeved undershirt, a v-neck dark grey sweater vest, and white socks. Nothing special, by any means, but he couldn't remember a student ever having seen him in casual, mugglish clothes, except perhaps Draco during his first few years at Hogwarts. Even while with the Death Eaters or while at home or whenever around occasional visitors (he remembered the disgusting time a few years ago when he had been forced to have Wormtail in his home) he preferred his black slacks and black coat. If it weren't for the fact that most of him wanted her there, he would have insisted that she leave.

She took one look at him and stopped dead mid-stride. He watched as her lips parted in surprise, no doubt at his attire. But then, as quickly as the shock had appeared on her face, it was replaced with a dazzling smile. And he could barely stand it.

He had been sitting in his armchair, which he hadn't bothered to move back to the fire side, and had The Daily Prophet on the table, ready to read the morning news. Coffee was brewing in the tiny kitchen alcove in his bedroom. His normal Sunday morning routine before working on any potions was well in progress.

"Good morning, Professor," Granger greeted, brightly.

Gods, he was glad to see her. For a moment, he imagined telling her so, but instead he drawled, "It is rather early for an interruption, Miss Granger."

She wouldn't be deterred. She handed him one of the coffees, black, and said, "I was assured by a mutual friend that you'd be awake and wouldn't mind the intrusion."

He met her eyes and gave her a suspicious, calculating look. "We don't have any mutual friends."

"Sure we do. A fair few, actually. Or, at least, _I_ call them friends, whereas _you_ might instead refer to them as," and she dropped her tone an octave and continued in what he could guess was an imitation of his own voice, "'a select few dunderheads who I can manage to tolerate for longer than a minute'."

If it had been someone he had disliked, or who he knew disliked him, he would have been offended by the imitation. Instead, he felt the corners of his mouth lift slightly and knew he was giving her one of his rare, small smiles. Except, with her, they seemed to be more frequent than rare. Still, he wouldn't let her think there was no price to pay.

"Apparently, Hogwarts should also offer theatre lessons. You're dreadful." He knew it was not much of a comeback, but her rosy cheeks and brilliant smile was causing his head to go fuzzy. It couldn't be that the coffee was poisoned. He hadn't yet taken a sip.

She rolled her eyes at him in response, and it reminded him of the way he had rolled his eyes at her Friday evening. His heart gave a sudden twitch, but he was distracted from analyzing the emotion when she said, "Well, my poor Severus Snape impression aside, the particular friend in question happens to be about three feet tall." Not only had she thrown him off by saying his first name, which sounded much too sensual coming from her lips, but then she gave him a wink.

He was stunned for a second, but forced himself to regain his composure.

Three feet tall. Then a wink.

Of course. Winky.

Half of him felt as if he should have never shown Hermione the house elf. The other half of him believed it to be one of the best decisions he had ever made.

 _Maddening._

"How do you like your coffee? I prefer mine black, but I could go grab some milk and sugar from the kitchen if you'd like?"

Coffee. She was asking him about coffee. Oh, right, because he was holding coffee. The coffee she had brought him. Right.

"Black is fine, thank you," he struggled. But instead of taking a sip, he set the mug on the small table between them. His action didn't go unnoticed.

"Really, if you don't like it black, I don't mind—"

"I meant what I said, Miss Granger." He held her eyes, hoping she would see more sternness than restlessness. The truth was not that he didn't like his coffee black, nor that he had his own coffee from Madam Rosmerta brewing in the other room, but that his stomach felt too unsettled to enjoy anything he consumed.

What was she doing there?

Why wasn't he asking her to leave?

The latter question was easy to answer. The former, however, was not. He thought about asking her why she was there—what her intentions were—but instead said, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He tried to make his tone sound impatient.

She took a sip of her coffee before answering. Shrugging, she replied, "I couldn't sleep. And I doubt any of my other friends are awake. Ginny, I know, loves to sleep in on Sundays."

He noticed how she had said ' _other_ friends'. Did that mean she thought him a friend? Or was he simply overanalyzing?

"Besides," she added, "I missed your books." Her eyes dropped to her mug as she took another sip.

"I…see." He paused, surveying her, noticing that she wouldn't raise her eyes. He forced himself to draw in a deep, slow, controlled breath through his nose. He would ask her this one question and then no others. Just this one.

-HG-

"Have you fallen so easily into the assumption that we are friends?"

At first, she wasn't sure how she should answer him. She _wanted_ to be his friend, as odd as that may seem to him, or anyone else. In fact, she was very sure she wanted to be more than friends, but couldn't ever imagine him feeling the same way about her. But if he was alright with being her friend, then maybe…

"Would that be a problem?" she asked, confidently. "If we were friends?"

"It takes much more than a few visits to my sitting room to begin a friendship. I take great care in the friends I choose. As I'm sure you know, I don't have many." He held her gaze steadily, his voice even and matter-of-fact.

"What does it take, then, to be your friend?" She wasn't sure where her confidence was coming from, but she was going to let it lead her.

She watched as he smirked at her, folding his hands together and touching both of his index fingers to his lips, as if deep in thought. He leaned back, dropped his folded hands into his lap, and replied, "Common interests, most importantly. And conversations of importance, not small talk, and not while during a lesson."

"So, I should spend more time with you outside of our lessons. I think this is a good start, then." She gave him her own smirk.

"You are my student, Miss Granger," he replied, and his tone sounded strained and bitter.

"With all due respect, Sir, I'm no ordinary student." It looked as if he was prepared to argue, so she plunged on, "I'm nineteen. I would have already graduated by now if not for Voldemort, and I helped save your life. I enjoy your company as much as I enjoy the company of my other friends." She omitted the fact that she was coming to _prefer_ his company over her friends, knowing he wouldn't want to hear that. "I admire you, and while we've had our differences this year, you've helped me greatly. I've come to believe that you aren't annoyed by my presence and conversations and you already know that I feel safe around you." She also wanted to mention how, not only had she seen him in a more casual light multiple times this year, but she had also seen him when he was vulnerable. But she thought it best not to mention that as it could hinder his sensitive pride and ego.

There was a brief moment of silence, then he asked, "Wouldn't you rather spend your free time with the friends you already have?"

She wondered if he was now reaching for reasons she shouldn't be around him. If so, he was surprisingly coming up short. "Ginny, Neville and Luna are all very good friends of mine, yes, but Neville and Luna are a couple, so sometimes they enjoy just spending time together alone, and Ginny is very busy with being both Head Girl and Quidditch Captain. And, if those weren't reason enough to go searching for company, I will say again, I don't feel safe with them like I do with you."

"You have expressed many times that you feel safe with me, there is no need to continue to remind me."

"It seems there is a need," she countered immediately.

He glared at her and she waited with bated breath to see if he would ask her to leave. Instead, he massaged two fingers to his left temple and let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes as he did so. She cracked a small smile, finding his actions endearing.

"If you feel too uncomfortable with the idea of us being friends, then at least let me spend my free time working on our potion for my parents. That is just as important to me as anything else right now." She felt this was a good compromise, and an excuse to spend more time around him, possibly.

"If you're so eager, we could do some additional brewing today. You never did come by to see what discoveries I had made yesterday."

 _Is that Snape-speak for 'I was disappointed you didn't come by yesterday'?_ She couldn't help but wonder to herself.

"If you have nothing else to do today, that would be great," she replied enthusiastically.

He nodded, his eyes straying over to the bookshelf she knew transformed into his bedroom's door. Already feeling a flush beginning to creep up her neck, she forced herself to look down at the Daily Prophet resting on the table.

"Excuse me," he said and suddenly got up and strode over to the bookshelf. She couldn't help but watch as he moved—the graceful, confident strides, and she could actually see the contours of his upper body now that he wasn't wearing a loose-fitting, flowy shirt or his teaching robes, but a well-fitted sweater. His torso seemed just as muscular as his arms.

She forced herself to look away and sipped her coffee again, which had started to go cold. Sooner than she had expected, Snape had returned, holding two mugs in his hands. She felt her eyebrows raise in confusion.

"Try this," he said gently, handing her the mug from his right hand.

She held the mug to her lips and caught the whiff of coffee, but it smelled different than what she was used to. She took a tentative sip and her taste buds nearly exploded. Her eyes widened as she let out a low hum of pleasure.

Snape had already sat back down in his armchair, sipping from his own mug.

"What in the name of Merlin is this?" Hermione asked after taking another sip of the mouth-watering drink.

"I told you, Miss Granger, Madam Rosmerta sends me excellent coffee."

"I definitely believe you! How is it _so good_?"

"Hawaiian Kona coffee beans, dripped. I have a decent coffee brewer in my private chamber. In the winter, when my growth of dianthus is ready to be used, I add them into the coffee for a unique flavor." He took another sip of his coffee, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor.

"I'd love to try some," Hermione said, quietly.

He didn't answer, but she knew he had heard her because the corners of his mouth had lifted ever so slightly.

After they finished their coffee, Snape took her into his lab and showed her the advances he had made to their potion, showing her the new notes he had written of his findings and what next steps he suggested they take. Then he helped her gather the ingredients and tools they would need. He instructed her on where to begin, then explained he was going to finish a few other tasks he needed to do that morning.

Hoping he would return soon, Hermione began on their potion with a small smile hitched on her face.

He returned within an hour. Hermione was so focused on her work that she didn't hear him come up behind her. When the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, she turned her head away from her work and saw that he was standing only a foot or so away from her, peering at the progress she had made so far. He was back in his flowy white shirt, the one she knew he normally wore under his jacket and robes.

She felt her cheeks warm as he took a step forward, coming to stand at her side. Without speaking, he began to help her brew.

The silence during their brewing lasted for at least ten minutes. It was then that Hermione broke her resolve. She had to tell him.

"I couldn't sleep last night. I had multiple nightmares, and I don't think I was able to sleep longer than an hour at a time. It was abysmally frustrating. I had slept in your sitting room so easily, though. I only remember waking once, and when I went back to Professor Weasley's sitting room that same night I was able to sleep so soundly and deeply that I didn't awake again until noon! But I know, _I know_ , it was because I fell asleep in your sitting room. That time of comfortable, uninterrupted sleep made it easier for me to sleep the rest of the night." She confessed this without looking at him. She just continued working with the chosen ingredients, determined not to break in her story because she wanted him to know how comfortable she felt around him.

He didn't respond, and as the minutes ticked by painfully, Hermione began to wonder if he was now angry. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, anything, he cut her off.

"You cannot stay with me, Miss Granger, no matter how different you may be from my other students, it would not be appropriate." His words were so sharp they seemed to slice through her.

"I wasn't going to suggest I stay with you, Professor. I know the Headmistress would never approve it, and I would not want to put you in an uncomfortable situation. But I do have an alternative idea, if you're willing to listen." When he didn't respond she continued, "I know I've been a hinderance to everyone since… since that night. Even though none of you will admit to it, I know I've been a nuisance. And I don't want to be. So," and she took a deep breath, "If you'd be agreeable, I was hoping you could stay in Zabini's old room and I could stay in the room that was intended for me. The only way I feel that I would be able to stand being back in that hallway and near that room is if it held something positive for me. I feel safe around you—safer than I feel with my friends, safer even than when I'm with the headmistress—and I know it's the best option for me to recover. I know this puts a lot of pressure on you, but—"

"I will give it some thought." Again his words cut her off, but his tone was modulated now, careful. She wondered if he was holding back other emotions. It wouldn't be unlike him to do, but she wished he wouldn't.

"You… you will?" she asked, barely able to believe that he was at least going to give thought to the idea.

-SS-

Again, Severus paused. Even though he knew his answer, he forced her to wait. "Yes," he said curtly. "Now, I think we should both be getting back to concentrating on this potion, unless you have decided to pursue other plans." Half of him wanted her to say that she really should be going, that she wanted to spend time with her other friends, while the other half of him was reaching out to her, begging her to stay.

"Thank you, Sir!"

He watched in astonishment as she made as if to touch him—dare he think embrace him?—but then she seemed to remember herself and said again, a little less enthusiastic this time, "Thank you. Truly. I know it's not at all what you want, nor what you deserve…but I really think it will help me."

For what seemed like the hundredth time since she had been back at the school, Severus felt as if she had struck him dumb. He found that he was unable to utter a response.

As they continued to brew, for she had not moved from her position of slicing more dandelion roots, he came to the realization that, if she truly felt safest with him, who was he to take that feeling away from her when she had already been forced to deal with so much loss and horror? And, this way, he would be more able to protect her should she be attacked in her own quarters. The closer he was to her, the easier it would be to protect her. For the first time in his life, he found himself sincerely hoping that she would be able to finish her last school year without any more pain…because, he admitted, she deserved it. She deserved so much.

Later that day, when Hermione decided to join her friends for lunch, Severus went to the headmistress' office. While he walked through the school he pondered how best to approach Miss Granger's idea with Minerva. What would she think? How was he to word it without it sounding as if he was taking too much interest in the young witch's fortunes?

To his surprise, the headmistress expressed that she thought the idea both suitable to Hermione's situation and the easiest option, as long as Severus was content with the accommodations, as Zabini's room was smaller by far in comparison to his own chambers. The potions master nearly rolled his eyes at the older Gryffindor. It's not as if he'd be in there other than to sleep. He'd still be spending a majority of his time in his own chambers, he assured her.

"Why, may I ask, do I find myself more surprised by your agreement to this arrangement than you seemed surprised at my presenting it?" Severus dared ask her.

"Severus, surely you must know that I've been aware of you and Miss Granger by now," Minerva replied, her lips twitching ever so slightly.

His mind seemed to turn numb for a second, but he quickly came to, realizing there was no way that he headmistress could know his feelings for the young witch. She was not a skilled Legilimens as he was, and barely had the same aptitude that Dumbledore had attained. And Winky, he knew, would never speak of his time with Hermione to anyone, not even the headmistress. He paid her, not Minerva. He knew his feelings, and their time spent together outside of lessons, was still secret.

"I can't say I understand your meaning, Minerva," he replied back, coldly. He wouldn't dare let her see any of the nervousness that flitted through his body and mind.

"The girl has clearly grown fond of you and feels safe with you. Perhaps even safer with you than she does with me or Molly. And, I am not blind. You both have formed a connection of trust and confidence in each other. It has not gone unnoticed that you, as I do, care for the girl."

Severus scoffed openly, following it with a clear sneer.

"Oh, for Morgana's sake, Severus, it's perfectly alright for you to care about your student's well-being, to show some genuine feeling after having not been able to reveal your true thoughts and emotions for the past twenty years. I am proud of you for taking interest in Miss Granger and for allowing yourself to comfort her. I know Dumbledore would be proud of you, too." Minerva glanced towards the portrait of Dumbledore and Severus followed her gaze. As usual, the previous headmaster was snoozing, but Severus could have sworn he saw the slightest smirk on the wizzard's grizzled features.

"So," he said, sneeringly, "You're in agreement with the situation? That I should take up temporary residence in Zabini's quarters until Miss Granger no longer feels she needs my protection?"

"Indeed, though it may shock you, I do agree. If I were to entrust Miss Granger's safety and well-being to any of my professors, Severus, it would be you."

To his befuddlement, he felt that that was one of the highest praises Minerva McGonagall had ever given him, and he found he could not find the ability to reply to her. Instead, he left the room with a twirl of his cloak and went to seek out Granger. She would surely want to gather her things and relocate back to her private quarters, once she knew that he would, from this moment on, be residing in the room right across from her.

 _Merlin's balls, what have I gotten myself into?_

-HG-

Hermione thought it would take her forever to fall asleep that night. Knowing that Professor Snape was sleeping just across the hallway, and being back in the room so close to where her attack had taken place, she was sure that her nerves would keep her wide awake for hours.

Instead, she rubbed some calming ointment on her wrists, chin, neck and temples, and immediately thought of her dark professor. The way he smelled… parchment, ink, metal, sweet and spicy. She thought of him in his grey sweater vest. She thought of him standing beside her, his practiced hands moving from ingredients to potion to stirring rod to their notes with a mesmerizing delicacy. She imagined those hands roaming her body as his dark eyes burned into her own. She imagined his lips parting as he drew ever closer…

And with those imaginings, she fell into a blissful, uninterrupted sleep of dreams that caused her to feel quite dirty when she awoke the next morning.

 _Merlin's pants, what have I gotten myself into?_

A/N: Wow! Thank you so much for the 50+ comments and faves! And over 160 follows, woohoo! I'm so happy and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!


	18. Chapter 18 - Sogni (Dreams)

Chapter 18

Sogni

(Dreams)

The third night of sleeping back in her private room, Hermione was dreaming.

"Concentrate, Miss Granger," her professor spat.

It was her sixth year at Hogwarts and Hermione was working on the Patronus Charm in her private lesson with Snape. She desperately reached for a memory that would bring enough happiness to produce her otter Patronus, but she was so angry and bitter and broken by Ron that she couldn't think of anything.

"You're pathetic," he growled and leered at her as a faint huff of silver mist escaped from her wand.

Suddenly, as if a volcano had been waiting to erupt inside of her, she screamed "SHUT UP!"

Books flew off the classroom shelves, Snape's desk seemed to implode—all the student's papers he had been grading flew up into the air—and student chairs toppled over as if struck by a tidal wave.

When the explosion was over, the room was hauntingly quiet except for Hermione's ragged breathing. She sunk to the floor, shoulders hunched, knees stinging from the sudden impact on stone, and her tangled, messy hair had come loose from its bun and swallowed her face as tears poured from her eyes.

"For the love of all things magic, get a grip, Granger. Stop whining over a dim-witted boy who clearly doesn't deserve you, or I may just lose my lunch."

She continued to sob, wiping the sleeve of her robe over her red, blotchy face.

Sighing angrily, Snape snapped at her, "Who is it you are pining over? What wizard?"

She sniffled but wouldn't answer him.

"Don't tell me it's blasted Potter."

"N-no. Harry is like... my brother," she managed to splutter.

"Then... Weasley?"

She nodded.

"And to think, I was actually considering Longbottom. But Weasley is almost as pathetic as Potter and Longbottom combined. Why shed tears for someone who doesn't deserve you—doesn't deserve the power they clearly have over you?"

"Power...?"

"The power to cause such emotions, yes. Why give someone that much power when it's clear that they don't feel the way for you the way you feel about them?"

"I… don't know…" She watched as her professor tapped his fingers against his ebony wand, clearly irritated.

Not looking at her, he grumbled, "That Weasley boy is an idiot, but what's new?"

"Such an idiot..." she repeated, meekly.

"What do you see in that dunderhead, anyway?" he asked, clearly disgusted.

"Why do you care?" she spat back.

"I don't," came his terse reply.

"Good," she said, just as abrupt.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Clean up this mess immediately. _Without_ magic."

But the dream, which had been memory, suddenly changed. As she bent to begin picking up strewn papers, the room around her morphed and she saw Ron and Percy, holding onto Fred's lifeless body. She let out a sorrowful moan and turned to Harry, but where she knew Harry was supposed to be, instead stood Voldemort, towering over her with his crimson eyes and snake-like face.

He held the Elder Wand and pointed it directly at her. "I will kill you now, and then I will find your worthless, muggle parents. I will show them your dead body and I will then torture them until they bleed out and die on the cold ground next to you, at my feet." His voice was more of a hiss, full of murder and malice.

"No!" she heard herself cry as she desperately reached for her wand.

When she turned back to face her tormentor, wand in hand, she was suddenly standing in the Shrieking Shack. All was silent and she was alone… until a bloodcurdling scream ripped through her like the Cruciatus Curse. Her body urged her forward, to burst through the wall in front of her and save the professor she knew was being attacked by Nagini. But Voldemort was there. If she moved, if she went to her professor, she would surely die.

Another scream wracked her insides and it felt as if her bones were rattling. She had to go to him! She had save him, this man who was in so much agony! But then a steal-like grip tightened around her arm. She twisted, trying to see her attacker, but couldn't turn her head. As she was pulled back down the tunnel of the shack, she kicked and thrashed, all the while screaming, "Professor! Professor! Professor!"

Hermione was awakened by a pair of arms, steady and forceful, pulling her out of bed. Fearing for her life, she began lashing out at the body. The strong arms pulled her in closer, tighter, and she was pressed up against a soft, yet solid material. She vaguely registered the bumps of what must have been buttons.

"Miss Granger, please calm down, it's only me."

She immediately fell limp. The man's deep voice, tender and soothing, continued to whisper softly to her. Words of comfort and security slipped from his mouth and ruffled her hair. She began to take deep, calming breaths as he was instructing her to do, and was then suddenly able to focus on her surroundings. She felt covered in thick oil and realized the stickiness was her own sweat, drenched and soaked through her pajamas. There was a dim lantern lit in her room and she and her professor were sitting on the floor, his body leaning against the frame of her bed as she leaned into him.

Suddenly embarrassed at their closeness, she made to pull away, but he held her fast. She almost melted into his arms just then, a fleeting thought crossing her mind that, maybe, just maybe, he was enjoying the contact and gaining comfort from their embrace as she was.

As her breathing slowed she heard him ask, "Would you like me to summon your calming ointment?"

She nodded into his chest. Her heart was fluttering, but whether it was from her nightmare or Snape's closeness, she couldn't be sure.

He shifted, moving her gently to his left side, and withdrew his wand from his right. The calming ointment then floated over and landed in his outstretched hand. She hoped that he would offer to apply it, but instead he held it out to her.

"Thank you," she murmured. His arms had since fallen away from their hold on her and so she scooted away from him, realizing there was no pretense for her to continue to cuddle with him. She didn't want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he must have already been feeling, so she gathered herself and sat on her knees. She focused on opening the jar of pasty medicin and applying it to the necessary areas of her skin.

When she was finished, he asked, "Was it another night terror?"

She nodded, unwilling to look into his eyes.

"You were calling for a professor," he stated. She had expected to hear amusement in his tone, but instead, it sounded worried.

"I didn't realize I talk in my sleep," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"Many people who don't typically talk while sleeping may experience it when caught in a lucid dream. You weren't talking, though. You were screaming."

Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. She couldn't bring herself to look at his face. _Gods, what must he think of me?_

"Would you like to talk to me about your dream?" he asked, his voice so gentle and calming that she felt her eyes close in response.

"Or would you rather go back to bed?" he asked.

She managed to shake her head no, but kept her eyes closed. She saw a flash of memory—him lying in the Shrieking Shack, his neck ripped open. She squeezed her eyes tighter and reached out her hand to him, needing to feel him, needing to know that he was alright.

He took it.

-SS-

How could he deny her outstretched hand when she clearly seemed to be in so much pain? He grasped her, letting her warm fingers clutch to his hand tightly. She pulled herself to him and proceeded to curl up at his side. He tensed, feeling her as she pressed her body up against his side. She then rested her head on the triceps of his left arm. He sat, still as stone, not knowing how to react.

He listened to her as she took deep breaths. They were still holding hands and he could feel his face beginning to burn at the sensation of her body pressed against his. He closed his eyes, following her breaths with his own, and let his thoughts take hold of him as she lay against him.

He imagined bringing his lips to her forehead, then the ridge of her nose where he would kiss her freckles. He imagined her looking up at him, her eyes bright and receptive, as she brought her hand up to his face and gently caressed his cheek. He sighed with the thought and felt her move against him in response. She wrapped her arm around his and pulled herself closer.

His throat tightened as he fought back a gasp. He could feel a burning beginning in his belly, and stirring lower. If this went on for much longer, he may not be able to stop himself from…

"Miss Granger," he forced out, rather gruffly.

She moved against him and he felt his warmth growing rapidly. His cheeks were beginning to flush.

"Miss Granger, let's get you back to bed now," he insisted. He attempted to continue his soothing tone, but he was becoming anxious. He needed to get back into his own room.

"Stay," she whispered so softly that at first he thought he had imagined it. But when he didn't respond she added just as softly, "Please."

That was it. He needed to get out of there.

Forcing himself to pull out of her embrace, he helped her to stand and then guided her back into her bed. She groaned, obviously disgruntled that he was forcing her back into bed. But she seemed so tired that she didn't resist as he pulled the red and gold blankets over her.

As he turned to leave, she reached out and grabbed the hem of his coat. He turned back and saw that she was staring up at him, her eyes finding his and holding them steadily. He couldn't understand the look she was giving him. It was like… longing. Did she truly want him to stay with her that much?

If so, it was even more of a reason for him to leave. "Goodnight, Miss Granger," he whispered in finality.

She brought her eyes down to where her hand had caught him and then, as if defeated, she released her grip and rolled over. Her wild curls hid her back and neck from his lingering gaze.

Feeling his throat tighten again, he set his jaw and spun himself away from her. As quietly as he was able, he left her room and listened as the door locked behind him. Then he retreated into Zabini's room where he slowly disrobed from his night patrol around the school and prepared for bed.

That night, he dreamed of pulling the young witch into his bed.

In his seventh-year potions class the next day, she didn't greet him with her usual small smile. Her eyes did not linger on his face and she did not approach him. He couldn't tell if she was embarrassed, or upset, and not knowing nearly drove him insane. Luckily, the lesson did not require much of a lecture. He sat at his desk, grading papers and occasionally glancing around the classroom, allowing himself to linger on Miss Granger only when she had her back turned to him.

He was adept at reading people based off their body language and the way they held themselves. He felt concerned when he noticed that all her body movements told him she was not comfortable. She was moving slower, almost sluggishly, and her head hung lower than what was normal. He watched as she interacted with Miss Weasley and noticed that she barely spoke to the girl, even while the red-head attempted to pull her into quiet conversation.

Yesterday and the day before, she had come to his sitting room via the floo in the kitchens and they had sat in his sitting room, reading and lightly conversing. But then, last night, he had been coming to check on her after his night patrol and heard her screaming. He had come to her aid, and his decision had resulted in a closeness to her he had not at all been prepared for. He wondered, with the events of last night, if she would again come to his sitting room this evening after dinner. From her somber demeanor, he doubted it, and couldn't decide if he was relieved she was distancing herself, or if he was disappointed.

However, after dinner in the Great Hall, which Granger had attended in the secure group of Longbottom, Weasley, Lovegood, and even Abbott, Severus was working on some potions for Madam Pomfrey when a small knock sounded at his door. Looking up, he allowed himself the briefest of hopes that it was her, but then glowered back down at the Sleeping Draught he was brewing and flicked his wrist to undo his wards.

He heard soft footsteps approach the desk where he stood but did not look up from his task.

"May I work on my parents' potion tonight?"

Soft-spoken. Not in a timid or cautious way, as he had grown accustomed to with most of his students whenever they approached him, but in a withdrawn, aloof kind of way. He raised his head and saw that Granger was not looking at him but was instead examining her fingernails.

"Of course," he answered, tonelessly.

Without a word, she went to his private store room. He followed her with his eyes, brow furrowed. He had turned back to his own work when he heard her enter back into the lab. He listened as she set up her cauldron, ingredients and notes a few desks down from him. He suddenly felt irritated at the obvious display of her wanting to stay far from him but bit the inside of his mouth to hold back from confronting her.

Finally, after a half an hour had passed and she had not spoken a single word to him, nor looked in his direction, he could no longer stopper his curiosity.

"What is the matter?"

His voice, coming on strident in the quiet of his lab, caused the Gryffindor to flinch. She looked up at him; a niffler caught in the act of stealing precious gems. "I don't… nothing. The potion is coming along just fine," she stammered.

He strode out from behind the desk and took a few steps towards her. She watched him with bated breath. Darkly, he scowled at her. "I was not referring to the potion, Miss Granger. What is troubling _you_?"

Instead of recoiling at his words, which came out harsher than he had intended, she brought her eyes to his and replied, defiantly, "I wouldn't want to bore you with my problems, _Professor_."

He ignored the emphasis she put on his title and continued to stare her down. After a few strained seconds of silence, she released a heated sigh.

"I feel so…" she glanced down at the cauldron and began to stir the potion. "Weak. Being afraid to sleep on my own, having nightmares every night, and longing to play the piano again, but not feeling safe enough to walk through the halls of the castle by myself at night, which is the only time I feel comfortable playing. I don't normally like playing for an audience. The music is more…personal, usually, without others listening. I just want to feel like I can be on my own again. But whenever I try to muster up the courage to leave my room in the middle of the night, I get—flashes—of… _him_ …standing over me, leering, getting ready to—" she broke off, and he was glad. His fists had already balled together at the thought of that night. "I desperately miss being able to play my music, and I…" she glanced up at him and when her eyes met his, he felt his hands relax. "I miss you coming to listen to me play."

"I never came to hear you play," he automatically replied. It was partial truth.

"Well, you certainly didn't come to reprimand me. Neither time did you deduct House points or give me a detention—not that it would have mattered if you had."

"Why would it not have mattered?"

"To be frank, I don't much care about winning or losing points anymore, and a detention? I've suffered through worse." Her tone was bitter, nearly spiteful.

"I did not punish you because it was clear to me that you were already succumbing to your own form of torture. I do not enjoy inflicting pain when one is already distressing themselves."

Her mouth fell open.

He smirked.

She fumed. "Torturing myself? I am _not_ torturing myself. And—did you just admit to the enjoyment of causing others pain?"

"I enjoy it every now and then, when it is deserved. I certainly enjoyed every chance I had to jinx or hex Wormtail. And you, I believe, immensely enjoyed slapping Draco Malfoy in your third year."

He watched as her face grew pink.

"I heard him snarling and whining about it to Crabbe and Goyle just outside this very room. He was surprised you had such violence within you. I, on the other hand, knew it was only a matter of time." He enjoyed the way her face grew redder with every word.

"You always claim to know things about me, Sir, and yet you continue to ask me what is wrong. Shouldn't you have already formed a conclusion?" Though her face was still red, her tone was bristling with derision.

"Most of the time, I have. But every good hypothesis requires a test. I find it pleasing to hear the confirmation of my suspicions fall from your mouth."

Stubbornly, she scoffed, unwilling to back down. "So, then, tell me, what is your _hypothesis_ as to why I wanted you to stay with me last night?"

His reply was swift, ready. "You feel comforted by my presence, or so you repeatedly insist."

"Your presence does comfort me, yes. So, then, tell me this, were you surprised at my admitting that I miss playing music for you?"

"No. I am an adept listener and have already expressed that I believe the music you play to be both beautiful and emotional. Therefore, it makes sense."

"And _you_ enjoy listening to beautiful, emotional sounds?"

He sneered at her. "This conversation is about you, Miss Granger, not me."

"Well, you already know everything about me, so I would assume this conversation is just for the purpose of upsetting me—or, possibly, entertainment for you."

It was her venom in the last words that caused him to break. He rushed forward, gripping the edge of the desk with both hands and leaning in towards her. "How _dare_ you insinuate—"

She cut of his seething words. "You have insinuated enough for the both of us, I think."

They stared at one another, their faces inches apart over the bubbling cauldron. He was breathing heavily, his hair had fallen in front of his face, and she was glaring at him, her own hair seeming alive with magic and feeling.

When he realized neither of them was willing to back down, he withdrew from her space and said, toneless once again, "Do you require any assistance?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." She practically snarled the last two words.

He turned, heart pounding, and walked back over to his own potion. As they worked on their own projects in silence he couldn't help but think of the things she had told him… about her feeling weak, afraid, and wanting to play music for him.

And, hard as he try, he couldn't rid the image of him taking her by the shoulders and closing the space between their lips.

She cleaned up her station an hour later and then handed him the notes she had taken. Without looking at him or wishing him a goodnight, she left him and slammed the door behind her.

-HG-

No matter how hard she tried not think about him, Professor Snape's words and face swarmed behind Hermione's closed eyelids as she laid in bed later that evening.

She saw his sneering face and felt anger welling up inside her. She remembered him leaning in close to her, their faces only inches apart.

 _She watched as he knocked her cauldron aside and closed the space between them. His lips crashed down on hers and she felt him pull her onto the desk so that she was propped up and facing him. She squirmed as he held her, but out of pleasure, not fear. She felt his hands rake through her curls as he deepened their kiss._ _She saw herself gripping onto his shoulders, pulling herself so that she knelt on the desk in front of him. She was now just slightly above him as they kissed, and he trailed his hands down her back, along the curves of her waist, and down to her buttocks, where he lingered and squeezed, roughly. His hands yanked down her skirt and he drew back from their kiss, his eyes roving over her newly revealed body. His gaze then came to rest on her baby blue panties and exposed thighs. He lunged forward and kissed the spot just above her right hip and she gave a squeak of surprise. He opened his mouth wider and dragged his teeth and tongue over her hip bone. She gasped at the burning sensation she felt on her skin. She gathered his soft, black hair into her hands and gripped it tightly in between her fingers, pulling gently. He let out a low growl and continued to drag his teeth down to her inner thigh. She could feel the space between her legs growing wetter, longing for his attention, for anything he was willing to do. He straightened suddenly and gripped her hips. "Sit," he demanded, his dark, dangerous eyes glistening. She obeyed, bringing her legs over the side of the desk. She watched as he pressed a hand to her chest, gently guiding her to lie on the desk. She fell back easily, her heart pounding with the thought of what he could do to her—what she wanted him to do. She felt him spread her legs apart and he began to trace his fingers over the top ridge of her underwear below her belly button. He teased her by sliding a finger underneath the band, pulling it towards him, and then allowing it to snap back into place. She gasped and flinched, but he had already moved on. He hooked his thumbs into the sides of the fabric and coaxed it down her legs, agonizingly slow, his eyes following his progress until they landed on her ankles, where the undergarment now dangled. She looked up at him as he stuck two fingers in between his parted lips and swirled his tongue around them. He withdrew his fingers, now soaked in his own saliva, and she watched as his hand fell towards her waiting heat. His hand halted and her eyes met his, beseechingly. He smirked down at her, dark eyes glinting. Her sweet spot throbbed in anticipation. The tension broke as he entered her womanhood, both of his fingers reaching in as far as they could, and she moaned aloud "Thank gods" for his fingers were long and dexterous. As they gently probed her most sensitive spots, she felt his lips press against her stomach. She writhed in ecstasy as his fingers picked up their pace and his kisses became tender nips. "Talk to me," she whispered, longing to hear his voice. His deep baritone reverberated against her flesh as he murmured, "Do you find this satisfying?" She moaned out a feeble "Yes." His fingers began working harder, faster still. She felt her toes beginning to curl. "Do you desire the release my ministrations are sure to deliver?" She closed her eyes and whispered, "Oh, yes." She focused intently on his stroking digits curling tightly inside her walls and his warm breath on her skin. Suddenly, she felt his nose and lips press up against her inner thigh and she shuddered with delight. She could feel the wonderous hot, tingling sensation begin to flood throughout her body. "You are close," he breathed into her thigh. "Yesss," she hissed. His movements inside of her were so deliciously superb that she knew it wouldn't be long before she came undone. "So come for me," he urged then, his voice a silken purr. She felt the heat rising inside of her and knew she was going to break—break as his fingers were inside her. He made three curling motions with his fingers, back to back, and she was biting her lip to keep from yelling. "Ohh…oh, gods," she gasped out as a wave of intensely pleasurable heat rolled through her. She held her breath as every muscle in her body seemed to tense. All it took was one more curl of his fingers, and then she broke around him._

 _He continued to massage her wet walls as she fell to pieces, blissfully. When her breathing had become slow and steady, he calmed his ministrations and carefully slid his fingers out from her to allow his hands to grip both sides of her waist. She felt her own wetness near her left ribcage, where his fingers had landed. She felt him place a delicate kiss on her inner thigh and she blinked her eyes open, as if waking from a dream. He leaned over, bestowing to her one of his small smiles, and then bent further to kiss the tip of her nose. Her eyes once again fell closed, the image of his tender expression and long, black eyelashes burning into her mind. She was exhausted. "Sleep now," he soothingly instructed._

Sighing in content, her eyes still closed, she rolled over onto what was actually her bed, not his desk, and grinned into her pillow. She was still wet and swollen from teasing herself. She imagined him climbing under the covers with her and her grin widened. She focused on the feeling of his body pressed tightly against her back and one of his strong arms wrapping around her. She then fell into a serene slumber.

When she awoke the next morning, she was overjoyed with the realization that her sleep had been devoid of nightmares.

She smiled, feeling nothing but peace.

A/N: So, I really want to know what you all think of this chapter as it was actually fairly difficult for me to write. Also, thank you so, so much for the 60+ faves and 170+ follows! You guys are awesome!


	19. Chapter 19 - La Musica (Music)

Chapter 19

La Musica

(Music)

Hermione felt it was meaningless to continue to butt heads with her professor. He could be insufferable, as she could, and she just needed to accept that. It wasn't even November yet, they still had time to get to know each other, and she planned to do just that.

Still, she knew her class schedule for the day didn't include potions with him and knew she wouldn't see him until their private lesson the following day (except for meal times in the Great Hall, which she was happy to be attending regularly again so long as her friends were with her). So, for that day, she decided not to bother him and spent time with Ginny, Neville, and Luna, who were all very welcoming.

The following day, she went to his private lab for lunch as she had the week before. Today their private lesson would be Defence Against the Dark Arts and, while she was looking forward to seeing him again, she wasn't looking forward the subject matter. She knew they'd be dueling using nonverbal spells only. She was well-practiced in nonverbal spells, but the thought of dueling her professor sent tremors down her spine.

She knocked on the door and it opened a second later. Knowing that Snape was likely to be in a foul mood since their last meeting, she entered cautiously, but not without confidence. He could treat her however he wanted, she was done raging against him. She would just push aside any blunders he may throw at her and not give him the satisfaction of baiting her into another fight. She would, of course, continue to stand up for herself, but she was determined not to lose her temper. At least, that was her plan.

But as she entered further into the room, she noticed he was nowhere to be seen.

Stopping to look around, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, she realized that the door to his sitting room was open. Quickly walking over to it she stood just outside its threshold and called, "Professor?"

"Come in," came his baritone voice. It sent shivers down her arms.

She stepped into the sitting room and searched for him. The first thing her eyes found, however, was not her black-clad professor. She was instead staring at the grand piano from Flitwick's music room.

"Oh," she let the small gasp fall as she walked towards the piano, in awe of its manifestation.

She stroked the top rim of the jet-black instrument and dragged her fingers down to the keys, caressing them lovingly. She seated herself and put her fingers to them, closing her eyes and letting the song she had been wanting to play for the past few weeks flow out of her like a waterfall breaking free of a dam.

She let the music take her over and she held her eyes closed the entire time, not needing to look down at the keys. This had been one of her most favorite songs to play and she never would have guessed that it's meaning to her would grow even more—thanks to the kindness of her professor. This song, she knew, was partly for him as well. When she had first learned it the summer before her sixth year, it made her think of somewhere safe and peaceful. Now, it caused her to think of dark, hematite irises.

When she finished, the last few notes bringing the song to a quiet end, she tilted her head back and allowed herself a small smile. It felt so, _so_ good to be playing the piano again, and even better knowing that he was somewhere near, listening.

She opened her eyes and saw that he was sitting just to her right, in his armchair. She had been so entranced she hadn't noticed his approach. He had his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. The posture seemed so unlike him that Hermione's grin grew wider. He seemed nearly as relaxed as she was, except for his eyes, which radiated a feeling of intense examination as they met hers.

"What did you think?" she asked, slightly breathless.

He continued to gaze into her eyes and gave her a small nod. "Eloquent, and peaceful. Was that another piece by your Italian?"

"La Profondità Del Buio," she replied, still grinning.

"Buio…" he said, thoughtfully. "That's… dark, isn't it?"

"I thought you didn't speaking Italian?" Hermione asked, taken aback, though pleasantly surprised.

"You are correct, I do not. However, Voldemort knew of an Italian wizard who was interested in the cause. I overheard said Italian speaking with Voldemort via the floo one evening and repeatedly heard him refer to Voldemort as il Signore Buio, or more commonly, il Signore Oscuro. I don't know when Voldemort had learned Italian, but I was not taken aback by the discovery. He regularly spoke with wizards in other countries, assuring them he would soon be reigning over the entire world."

Hermione shivered at the thought of what their world would have been like if Voldemort had succeeded with his plans. She knew that she wouldn't be alive, that was for certain.

"What is the translation?" Snape asked, gently tugging her from her thoughts.

"The title in English is 'The Depth of the Dark'," she explained, unable to stop the small smile from forming on her lips.

"Intriguing title. And is it customary that the piece be played with one's eyes closed? Possibly to pay tribute to the title?" There was a slight smirk on his face and she was overwhelmed with the images that had played in her mind two nights ago.

"I… no, not customary. It's just a song I have played so frequently I don't need to look at the keys or sheet music."

"You enjoy it that much? Or it just took many repetitions to memorize?" He seemed genuinely interested.

"I enjoy it that much. More so now, in fact, and I hadn't thought that possible." She gave him a sheepish grin.

"Well, it is beautiful."

Her skin crawled at the huskiness in his tone. She wished he was complimenting her, and not the song. Maybe, in a way, he was.

"Please," he motioned with his hand towards the piano, "Continue, if you'd like. As I said before, I am an adroit listener."

She smiled, somewhat shyly, and turned to the piano again.

-SS-

The next piece she played was different than the melancholy beauty of the Italian pianist. Severus immediately knew this new piece could not have been composed by Einaudi. Still, the song had some pleasant qualities, and he enjoyed watching her talented fingers flow over the ivory. He noticed that her wild curls seemed to rise and fall with the music, as if they were attempting to dance.

The song softly came to an end and she turned again to face him, looking expectant.

"That was…different," he drawled, the corner of his mouth lifting.

She shrugged. "I've learned and loved many different compositions. That was a piece my mother taught me."

He waited to see if she would become upset or withdrawn at the memory of her mother.

Instead, she continued, " _Les Feuilles Mortes_ , originally by Joseph Kosma. There are lyrics also, by Jacques Prévert, but I'm not much of a singer. Many renditions have come about over the years, but my mother taught me the original."

"I think I prefer your Italian," he decided.

She giggled.

He felt a pang, not entirely unpleasant, in his chest.

"May I, please, ask you something?" Her eyes were imploring him.

He gave a slow nod and held her gaze steadily.

She became serious, straightening her back and fully turning towards him on the piano bench. He watched as she placed her hands in her lap but forced himself not to linger where they rested.

"Why are you being so kind to me? I can see it's not easy, so I can't help but wonder if you're being pressured to by McGonagall or… _gods_ , I don't know… Apologizing? For your unyielding cruelty when I was younger? Or maybe trying to be kinder to me because I'm a Mudblood?"

"Do not say that word," he snarled, fiercely.

She stared him down and retorted, just as fiercely, "Why? I am a Mudblood! Mudblood, and proud of it!"

He glared at her and she glared right back. It seemed that, while he detested the slur, she had chosen to find pride in it instead. He supposed, if it was for the reason of finding strength within her muggle-to-magic heritage, it would be unwise for him to continue to argue with her.

"What many witches and wizards fail to realize, Miss Granger, is that a generous portion of my diction of choice and actions were all part of a carefully crafted act. I will not deny that, as a school boy, I had many of those who did not like me. Those who did were either interested in my intelligence, or in my undeniable skills in the Dark Arts. But even you can attest to the fact that Potter, Weasley and yourself never liked, for example, Draco Malfoy. Yet, over just the past few months, so I hear, Draco has broken away from the strangulation of prejudice and has tried seeking out better company. I hear he has visited Andromeda on a few occasions within the last few months, wishing to know more about his estranged aunt and her grandson. People can change, it just needs to be their choice to do so. However, people can also change without conscious decision, such as after experiencing extreme trauma."

He gave her a knowing look, then continued, "I, however, only grew deeper into the need for acceptance and approval, triggered by the realization that my friendship with Lily Evans had ended and that she would never care for me the way I cared for her. Without her friendship, I felt lost. So, I gave into peer pressure and joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. I excelled in the Dark Arts, and Voldemort himself told me that he thought my mastery of potions would prove useful to him. I was not only given the chance to experiment and delve into areas of magic prohibited at Hogwarts, but I was given praise for doing so. That is what kept me tied to the Death Eaters. But when I delivered the part of the prophecy I had overheard, and then learned of his plans to hunt down Lily's son… I realized I had made a grave mistake. The worst of my life. Yes, I will admit that I did not care if Voldemort killed her son or husband. James Potter had been my tormentor for all seven of my years at Hogwarts, and I had no connection with their son. I had never grown close to him as Black, Lupin and Wormtail had. I had never even laid eyes on the child."

He sighed, remembering all the senseless anger he had once felt towards Lily and James. Remembering that, for him to be so smart, he was still so immature and inundated with jealousy and grudging resentment. "I was also envious that they were a happy family, something I have never experienced and believe I never will. So, yes, I begged Voldemort to spare Lily, but when I saw that he had no real intention of doing so, I sought out Dumbledore… and so began my days of becoming suspended on the strings of two puppet masters. I put my other noteworthy skills, that being of deception, Occlumency, Legilimency, and, to put it mundanely, _acting_ , into use, and became an accomplished emissary—a spy, in simpler terms. By the time you and Potter had come to Hogwarts, my reputation as the cruel, callous potions master had taken such a hold among the students and staff that Dumbledore felt I would be ready to join Voldemort when he arose again."

For the first time, she interrupted him. "Wait. _Dumbledore_ encouraged your behavior because he knew it would be easier for Voldemort to accept you back? How—"

Sensing her query, he interrupted, "Dumbledore had always known that Voldemort would return. He did not know exactly _when_ , but he had been preparing for his inevitable return since the night Lily and James died, and he knew he would need me to act as a spy when that unfortunate day arrived."

She stared at him, aghast, but did not say anything further.

So, he continued, "It was not difficult for me to mistreat Potter, since he constantly reminded me of his father, and his Weasley sidekick was an idiot, but you…" he faltered, unsure whether he should admit to the feelings he had felt upon realizing how intelligent the young witch before him was and had always been. "I admire intelligence. I admire the thirst for knowledge, and the willingness to go above and beyond what is expected. I do not, however, admire those who flaunt their knowledge, and I never have. You, whether intended or not, blatantly flaunted your intelligence instead of treating it with caution and subtly."

Her lips were parted, and she looked angry, as if ready to dispute him, but he calmly pressed on, "And so, it was easy for me to overlook your intelligence and belittle you, as my character was expected to do. Before, it was crucial that my peers and students believed I gained enjoyment from my belittlement of you, but now, in the present, I will no longer allow anyone to continue believing that notion… however, I will say that every action I took in the past was _necessary_." That, he was pleased to see, caused her to snap her mouth shut.

"I sometimes like to wonder who I would have been if I had not been forced to take on an exaggerated 'Death Eater-gone-good-wait-not-truly' persona. I know I would not have been a pleasant person. Nothing like Sprout or Flitwick, and far, far from Hagrid, but I could see myself being comparable to that of McGonagall—just less Gryffindor." He smirked.

"So, strict and scary, but in a I'm-better-than-you-and-I-know-more-than-you-do kind of way, then?" Granger shot at him, displaying a smirk of her own.

"As I previously stated, I do not admire those who flaunt their knowledge. But, you are correct to assume that I would hold myself to be better than my students, since that is a fact and not a pretentious act."

"Maybe in the specific subject you teach, but not in many other ways," she shot back. He was pleasantly surprised to see that she was still smirking at him without a trance of true annoyance or anger on her face. Maybe she was beginning to understand his sense of humor after all…

"Potions is not my only area of expertise, Miss Granger," he replied, employing his modulated baritone to drag out the words. He watched as her cheeks reddened slightly and felt a stir in his lower abdomen. He had to get back on track…

"If McGonagall is considered approachable, I would be even less so. But, I would not be cruel. Condescending, of course, how could I not be with the many dunderheads I've had to teach? But cruel, no, I think not. That had been a carefully designed act, and one that I found easy to portray since I was furious with many people at the time. But still, an act."

"Then why are you still so...?" 

"So, what, Miss Granger?" He hoped she would choose her next words wisely.

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his eyes to her breasts for a fraction of a second.

"So aloof and callous one day. Predatory and hurtful the next. Then gentle and relaxed. You don't make any sense to me most days..." 

"You know I don't need to gift you with an answer as to why I behave the way I do." 

"I know…"

He watched as she lowered her eyes. 

"It is, I think, because I am reevaluating who I am. For so long I had to pretend to be an exaggeration. Now I'm figuring out who I actually am. And trying to decipher something like that when you're my age, well, it's no easy task..."

She did not reply and so a stillness fell between them. He was not looking at her, but instead was staring down at his hands.

As if the words had been dying to come out, he suddenly found himself confessing, "But I am not free to discover myself, or what I want in this life, not truly. I, too, suffer from nightmares, both waking and sleeping, sudden feelings of anxiety, panic at the smallest twinge of pain from my left forearm." Without thinking, he folded his hand over the place he knew the Dark Mark still lingered. "Some days I am consumed with the notion that not all is set right and something horrible is to reveal itself any moment. I am haunted by the actions I had to take while among the Death Eaters… and Dumbledore…" He closed his eyes, remembering. "…and all the fear and hatred afterwards, nothing like I had ever experienced before…" Forgetting she was there, he brought his hands up to his face and smoothed them over his cheeks, up over his eyes, and into his hair. He tugged a clump down and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

-HG-

She watched him fall apart in front of her. The man who she had never seen express any emotion that had not been carefully calculated first, except, perhaps, his anger. And now he was telling her his story, and more than she ever thought she would be privy to knowing.

"Sometimes I wonder if I will ever know happiness…" He whispered it so quietly, Hermione had to lean in closer to hear the last few words.

Once she registered them, it felt as if a heavy weight had been placed on her chest. She felt sudden tears well up in her eyes and blinked them back furiously. It would do neither of them any good if she started crying now.

Thinking it best to change the subject and bring him out of his misery, she said quietly, "Thank you, so much, for bringing this piano here. Wherever did you get it? It looks just like—"

He chuckled.

She sucked in a deep breath and felt her heart skip a beat. It was the first time, ever, that she had heard him laugh. It was… incredibly sexy.

She righted her shocked expression to one more inconspicuous just as he lifted his head to look at her.

"I simply duplicated the piano from Flitwick's room. Please, don't for a moment believe that I went out of my way to _purchase_ one." His tone was light, all sadness displaced as if it had never been there. He seemed caught in between one of his smirks and small smiles.

She gave a breath of relief, more for the fact that he no longer seemed dismayed, and less for the fact that he had not bought a grand piano for her use.

"Of course, that makes sense. Magic. Well, I think, perhaps…" she faltered, not knowing what to say from there.

"I believe we have skipped our private lesson for today to instead endured a trip into memories of the past. Still, I enjoyed the songs. Perhaps you should get on to your next lesson. However, plan for our lesson next Friday to be Defence, and prepare for it to be grueling." He gave her a knowing sneer.

She groaned audibly. "Perhaps, if I play my hand well enough, I'll be able to get out of another private Defence lesson and instead practice the piano."

"A fool's quest," Snape replied. He surveyed her face, as if unsure as to what he saw there. She wondered if he was worried about opening to her. "However," he slowly continued, "You are welcome to use this piano whenever you would like. Just, as per usual, give warning before you unexpectedly floo into my sitting room."

She let herself grin at his offer, and warning. "If I finish my studies early tonight, maybe I'll come down before bed?"

He nodded, seeming to approve of her idea.

His eyes were so dark…Forcing herself to look away from them, she gathered her school things, thanked him again politely, and headed to her Advanced Ancient Runes lesson.

As she had suggested, she came back to play the piano after she had finished her studies. It was just after nine o'clock and she was pleased to see that Snape seemed to be waiting for her. He was sitting in his armchair near the piano, drinking crimson liquid from a crystal glass.

Giving him a small smile, which he returned with a bow of his head, she approached the piano and seated herself.

The first piece she played was _Moonlight Sonata_ by Beethoven and she was pleased to see that her audience recognized the piece. She was made aware of his familiarity in the way he tapped his fingers onto his glass in sequence with the notes she played.

When she finished he nodded appreciatively and said, "Beethoven. I happen to enjoy that piece, unfortunately, many others do as well."

She didn't reply but smirked and rolled her eyes at his obvious distaste at liking something that was popular. She sensed him watching her carefully and knew he would not miss any emotion or movement she displayed.

Righting her expression and putting her fingers back to the piano, she began to play another song by Ludivico Einaudi, or, as her professor called him, 'her Italian'. A minute in, when the song picked up speed, her movements became more exaggerated. Then the song calmed again, and she swayed gently. The piece ended on a surge of energy and when it ended abruptly, she held her hands over the keys and sighed in contentment.

When she finished, in his fashion, Snape asked for the piece's title.

" _Questa Notte_ by—"

"Your Italian," he interrupted her, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "I am beginning to recognize his style."

She smiled. "It means 'This Night'." She then took time to look around his sitting room, again noting the absence of photographs. She suddenly felt sad for him.

Turning to him and away from the piano, she asked, "How can you stand being alone? Don't you ever just want to break down? Or scream? Or at least talk to someone?"

He didn't answer right away but held her gaze in that oh so familiar penetrating way that caused her skin to cover in gooseflesh.

Finally, he replied, "That has never been me. Death Eater persona or not, I was taught at a young age that to show emotion, and to admit to those emotions, was to be…weak."

"So… you think I'm weak." She wouldn't allow herself to frown, but she did feel slightly put-off.

"I don't know what you are," he sighed.

"So that's a yes." For him to admit at not knowing something was likely akin to him avoiding the truthful answer.

"You are many things, but you are not weak. You… are like a cauldron that is trying to hold too much. You overflow."

That took her by surprise. Her eyebrows raised, she asked, "And you never overflow?"

"I'm endless," he replied, though his voice was dull instead of light.

She examined him carefully and he met her eyes when she brought them to rest on his. Holding onto him, just as he was, she allowed her response to fall from her lips and hoped he would not dismiss them.

Softly, but confidently, she told him, "No one is endless."

And they continued to stay locked to each other, connected by sight, sitting in the silence and stillness, surrounded by the flickering flames from the fireplace.

A/N: Yes, yes, I know, I know... devoid of sexiness, but I was insistent that our lovebirds must have this conversation before either of them makes a move for the other. I know it's not satisfying in the ways some of you were hoping for, but Sev's explanation is crucial to the rest of the story. Thank you all so much for your kind and helpful comments (I hope my Italian is improving) and for following me on this ride with Sevmione. Sorry that this last chapter took so long for me to post. While it is short, there was a lot of information to it and I had to make sure I didn't rush it anymore. Look for the next chapter in 3-5 days! Thank you all again, so so much!


	20. Chapter 20 - Il Inverno (Winter)

Chapter 20

Il Inverno (Winter)

It was now well into November. Severus was pleased to see that as each day passed Miss Granger was becoming livelier, more animated, and more comfortable with her surroundings. She had suffered from a few night terrors, but calmed as soon as he entered her room to sooth her. On these occasions he did his best to ignore the pride he felt at the recognition she was so easily reassured by his presence. While she did not ask him to stay, nor did she put him into ill-advised closeness as before, he was able to sit and speak with her for a few minutes during each visit to be sure she was able to fall back asleep.

As she became more confident, his fondness for her only increased. Still, he would not let his mind travel to forbidden places where she was concerned. Multiple times, as he slept in Zabini's bed across from her room, he found himself beginning to fantasize about her. But as soon as he began to feel the need to satisfy himself, he shut the thoughts down. He could not escape the guilt that she was still his student, and he her professor, no matter how old or mature she was. Pleasuring himself to thoughts of her, while conscious at least, did not feel… honorable… to his or her person. During his sleep, however, he could do little to prevent the dreams that caused him to wake up with a raging hard-on and hot, sticky, sweaty skin. On nights like these, which happened at least once a week, he would climb into his shower, turn on the cold water, and proceed to occupy his thoughts with potions and his up-coming lessons.

While he wouldn't let himself fantasize about Miss Granger, Severus could no longer deny that ever since he had dared to explain himself to her—to clarify why he behaved as he did—he had felt a kind of release. There had only been two people in his life who he had willingly opened himself up to… Lily Evans and Albus Dumbledore. And yet, speaking with Granger about himself, had given him the sense of returning the favor to her, as she had talked to him about herself on many occasions. She had trusted him enough to confide in him, and so by answering her questions somewhat fully, he was showing her that he felt he could trust her as well. Although, he would not allow himself to tell her explicitly why he was being kind _to her_. He was certain that only two outcomes would come of that confession; despite her peeked interest in him, she would surely turn him away, or secondly, she would think less of him for having such feelings towards her—he was twice her age, and her instructor. And yet, he had admitted to himself he could not avoid her. He was drawn to the witch and there was no staying away so long as she continuously sought his company and coaching.

Throughout November, she continued to come to his sitting room each evening before bed, and around ten or eleven they would walk together to the seventh floor, always saying goodnight to one another before retiring to their own private room. She would also come to his quarters for lunch every Friday proceeding her private lesson. She was coming along as well as could be expected in her Defence lessons, and they were both making progress on the potion for her parents. Before, he did not know if creating a potion to reverse the effects of Obliviation would prove possible. Now, he felt sure they would succeed. With his own advancements, deep understanding, and appreciation for potions, and with her talent for excelling in most every task put before her, he felt that an antidote would soon be discovered by their determined and astute minds combined.

A kind of tranquility seemed to have settled between them. She no longer asked him questions that were difficult for him to answer, and he no longer provoked her as he had done before. Some days they conversed about many topics including potions, the Ministry, new studies in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but she seemed to instinctively know to stay away from more personal topics, and rarely spoke of her friends. He felt more relaxed with her this way. The more personal the topics, the more restless he became. Sometimes, they wouldn't even speak. They would simply sit together and read for hours. This he enjoyed just as much as their conversations. What he enjoyed even more than both, however, was when she played the piano for him, which she did nearly every evening. She played him more of her Italian, classics from Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Handel, Bach and Stravinsky, and other more contemporary pieces he did not much care for so, naturally, forgot their titles and names. At the end of the night, she would thank him for listening, and he would thank her for wanting him to.

The hours spent with her were what he found himself looking forward to every day. And yet… he found himself dreading the passing of time. It was nearly winter, soon it would be spring, then summer, and she would be graduating. She would have no reason to linger at the school, and he would be without her companionship. These were the thoughts that plagued him daily, and he only hoped she, nor anyone else, noticed his growing dismay.

She would not stay, he knew, and the thought alone tore at his insides in a way he had not felt for nearly seventeen years.

-HG-

Had she thought this through?

Of course she had.

She thought everything through. Analyzing and over analyzing until it was painful sometimes. And while her growing interest in her professor wasn't painful, it was certainly something that demanded scrutinization. Was she simply infatuated? Were her feelings compromised because of the trauma she'd been through? Was she suffering from what muggles described as "daddy issues"? She had lost her father, in a way, but it had been entirely her choice, and it seemed as if she may soon have him and her mother back, if her and her professor's advancements with the potion gave any indication. So... why did she like him? And not just as a friend, but as more?

Well, he was alluring. He always had been. Well, not always. She supposed she had started to notice him more ever since he openly displayed his Death Eater's mark to Fudge, and everyone else who had been present, in the hospital wing the night Voldemort had returned. Ever since then, a sudden rush of respect and peeked interest nagged at the back of her mind whenever she found herself in her professor's presence. He had always been cruel, yes, but the explanation he had given her those weeks ago in his sitting room, the topics of which she had not pressed further out of respect for his privacy, seemed legitimate. Which would mean that, while he may not be a kind man by default, he was certainly not a cruel man by default, either. His devotion to Lily and the care he had shown Hermione in her moments of distress proved that much.

He was a genius. All through her sixth year she had been enthralled with his brewing skills during their private potion lessons and fascinated by his passion while he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. And her awe at his skills continued as they spent more time together this year. And all that aside, his ability to successfully deceive the darkest wizard ever known to the wizarding world. That in itself spoke wonders of his magical abilities. She knew she was the brightest student currently attending Hogwarts, and yet she couldn't fathom succeeding in the tasks Snape had been put through—willingly put through, as Dumbledore had asked him to be of service, not forced him.

Yes, he was a genius. And she longed to discover the other talents he had.

She was also beginning to realize that she didn't want to be away from him. During her classes, he was on her mind; the next time she would see him, how often was too often, was he becoming annoyed with her, were her friends becoming suspicious of her reoccurring absences, etc. Outside her classes, she thought very much of the same things when she was not with him. Yet when she finally was with him, all felt right in the world. In her world, at least. And while she could scarcely hope to believe he felt the same towards her, she desperately wished for it. When she laid down each night to go to sleep, she always fantasized about him, whether they be sheet-soaking fantasies, or simpler fantasies, that of which she pictured them living together, collecting potion ingredients together, or falling asleep in the arms of each other. In class, when she had completed her work ahead of her classmates, she often fell into fantasies of trailing kisses over his scars, or of running her hands through his hair, or just simply holding his hand. Those were her fantasies. Him loving her and she loving him in every way possible.

She had never before experienced such desire for a person.

-SS-

December flew by, and before Severus knew it, the students would be leaving for the Christmas holidays the following day. He noticed that, on the roster of students staying behind, Granger's name was absent. He did his best to ignore the twisting knot in his stomach. He also noticed that Weasley, Longbottom, and Lovegood would be away for the holidays as well. He found himself wondering if the four students would continue to spend time with each other over the holiday break, possibly along with Potter and the other Weasleys, but as a sudden surge of jealousy formed in his chest he dismissed the thoughts.

This was how it was meant to be. Miss Granger, going wherever she wanted to be for the holidays, and he, staying at Hogwarts to supervise the few students staying and continuing his work on his potions and essay grading.

It was past nine in the evening and Miss Granger had still not come to his private lab or called through the fireplace to see if she could join him in his sitting room. He was trying not to worry, or let her absence disgruntle him, but couldn't help glance towards the fireplace every few seconds as he sipped on his elderflower wine.

 _If only she had a fireplace of her own…_ he thought to himself, grumpily. But no, that wouldn't be appropriate. Flooing into a student's private chambers? Very, very unprofessional. However, he could always walk up to her room and see if she was alright. Perhaps, if she still did not show by ten, he would investigate.

He immersed himself in a new article about the uses of bezoars found in goats from Turkey versus those found in goats from Ethiopia. It successfully distracted him long enough so that the next time he looked at his sitting room's grandfather clock it read a quarter past ten.

Setting the paper down on his armchair, he began the ascent to the seventh floor, all the while looking to see if he spotted Granger in the halls of the school.

The halls, however, were empty and quiet, as they should be at the current hour. He passed a few ghosts, but other than that, all was calm and dark. His footsteps quickened as he neared his destination, his heart accelerating with every step. The corridor on the seventh floor was empty, as was the hallway of the students' private rooms. He slowed and came to a stop in front of the Gryffindor's door, calming his breaths so that they came out steady and silent.

Just as he raised his hand to rap his knuckles on the wood, her door flew open and she barreled right into him, her wild hair flying around her as her slight frame pressed flush against his. She had let out a muffled "Oof!" and then a small gasp, while he, instinctively, brought his hands up and grabbed her arms to both steady her and simultaneously push her back.

He was surprised when he felt her hands grip onto the curve of his elbows. It was as if her fingers were suddenly fire, burning through his clothes.

She steadied, still holding onto him. "Oh, Professor! I was just coming to see you! I hope I didn't hurt you by running right into you. I shouldn't go charging out of my room like that, but I was so anxious to try and get to you before—"

"Miss Granger, please keep your voice down and cease your rambling this instance."

She seemed to choke on her next words, then she broke out into a sheepish grin. "Did I hurt you?" she asked again, heeding his warning and whispering. Her eyes sparkled in the light of his lit wand. She didn't seem at all phased by his harsh words.

"Of course not. I'm not some scrawny first year," he sneered.

"Yes, you're at least a sixth year, possibly a seventh year, it's hard to tell." She eyed him from top to bottom, playfully.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Well, if I'm only a sixth or _possibly_ a seventh year, you're certainly only a third year." He was still sneering at her. She was still holding onto him. He had not released his grip on her, either. What would someone think if they were seen this way? Did he care?

"A third year? Well, I suppose that's alright. I did perform a jail break in my third year, so…" She trailed off, but he could tell it was purposefully done. She was grinning at him in a manner he could only describe as mischievous. He felt a stirring in his lower regions.

Yes. He did care. He had to care.

He released her and stepped back, causing her to let go as well. He noticed her grin falter slightly and ignored the pang in his chest at his having to let her go.

"Prison break? You must elaborate," he drawled, attempting to restore her grin to its fullest.

"Maybe someday," she replied, then bit her lower lip as if embarrassed.

"I see I'm not the only one with secrets and a criminal record," he whispered. They smiled at each other then. Realizing they had both felt silent, he cleared his throat and asked, "Why were you coming to see me?"

"To wish you a happy Christmas, of course!" She was still whispering, but it was an excited whisper nonetheless.

"Ah, I see," he replied, nearly grumbling.

"Aaand," she continued, smile never wavering, "to give you this!" She swung her small beaded bag out in front of her and from it produced a square, wrapped package a little larger than the size of copper cauldron. The wrapping paper was green and silver with a red and gold bow on top. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her choice of combining the two color schemes… they looked absolutely horrible together.

"Your taste in decoration is horrendous," he said with a smirk.

"All four colors are Christmas colors." She winked at him.

"Indeed." He took the gift and held it awkwardly, staring down at it and then back to her, wondering if she truly expected him to open it as they stood in the entryway of her room.

"Come in, you can open it in here." She smiled and beckoned him into her room with her hand, stepping into the room herself.

His heart gave a slight jerk. He had been in her room many times over the past few months, but it had only been to comfort her from a restless sleep, never for any other reason. This time it felt too intimate.

A furious debate was raging through his mind when she suddenly said, "Here, let me get you a chair."

He watched as she withdrew her wand, gave it a flick, and the exact replica of his very own armchair appeared next to her bed. When had she duplicated it? Had all of this been part of a plan? Giving his head a quick, firm shake to the right, he brushed aside his suspicions and entered her room, sitting in his duplicated armchair with the present resting on his lap. Granger then flicked her wand at the door and it shut quietly, locking them inside.

His heart was pounding.

She sat on her bed, watching him expectantly.

"Miss Granger…I do not have a gift for you in return," he confessed, quietly.

She waved an impatient hand and shook her head, reminding him momentarily of an annoyed Minerva. "You got me a birthday gift. As I didn't give you a gift for your birthday this year, it's fine for you to have forgotten a Christmas gift for me."

"Am I to assume that, if you bestow me with a birthday gift this coming year, I will need to return the favor _and_ gift you with a present next Christmas?" He felt his cheeks lift with a small smile. The thought of seeing her next September, let alone next Christmas, warmed his belly, though he knew there seeing one another to be highly improbable.

"Correct," she answered, grinning widely. "Now hurry up and open your present. I still haven't finished packing."

For the first time since he had entered, Severus glanced around her room. Her trunk was laying open near her small bathroom and books were stacked on the desk up against the far wall. So that was what had kept her from coming to his sitting room earlier that evening after dinner. She had been packing for the holidays. But why would it take her so long? Surely she didn't need to take much with her.

"Professor?"

He turned back to her, realizing he had let his thoughts wander and had caused a silence between them. She was looking at him with her brows furrowed in concern.

He brought his eyes down to the package, let out a sigh of mock agitation, to which she giggled, and began to unwrap his gift.

Moments later, he was staring down at an obviously muggle-made box that said "JVC" and had a picture of what he knew to be a muggle device that allowed muggles to listen to music. But it looked smaller than the one he had seen displayed in muggle shops. On top of the box was a much smaller, thinner square case that had the words "Ludovico Einaudi" and "Le Onde" on the front.

"It's a boombox," she explained. "Muggles use them to listen to music."

"I'm vaguely familiar with the device," he admitted, turning the smaller case over in his hands. On the back was a list of song titles. He knew they were songs because he recognized nearly all of them. Miss Granger had played all but one for him. Apparently, she had practiced and memorized the entire score. At the bottom he saw that the date the album was released was 1996.

"You have learned and memorized all of these songs in only—" he attempted to guess at how many months she had had to practice the songs.

"About two months," she answered for him. "I made time to practice during the summer between my fifth and sixth year, then during that winter break, and one month between my sixth and…well, what would have been my seventh year."

He was impressed but was not about to admit it. He was also surprised but knew he probably should not have been. The way she was able to memorize pieces of text verbatim proved that her memorization skills were exceptional.

"So, by using this… contraption… I will be able to listen to your Italian's songs?"

She giggled again.

 _She seems to be very giggly tonight_ , he thought to himself as he remembered when he used to find students giggling annoying. He still did, usually. But not her.

"Inside the case is a CD. Short for Compact Disc. You put the CD in the boombox and you can listen to the songs. I'll show you how to do it when I come back from break."

His heart sank. _Ah, yes, the holiday break. She would be leaving tomorrow._

"Are you annoyed with me?" she asked, her voice light, but her eyes again filled with concern. Before he could fully register her question, she added, "I know it's all very muggle… but it was the only way I could think of to share his music with you in a way you could have it as your own."

He gave her a nod of comprehension. "No, I'm not at all annoyed. Befuddled, perhaps. You must surely instruct me on how to work this device. I fear that trying to fathom it by myself would prove disastrous."

"Why is that?"

"I'd become so frustrated I'd break it, perhaps."

More giggles. He found his heart felt lighter every time she laughed, which always felt to be _with_ him, as opposed to _at_ him.

"Seeing as most of these devices don't work at Hogwarts, you'll definitely need my help. I've come up with a way to work around the hinderance and I don't think anyone else knows how." She gave him a cheeky grin. "Maybe, if there's time, I'll help you set it up before I leave tomorrow," she offered.

"Don't trouble yourself for my sake, Miss Granger. I am a patient man," he drawled, but his curiosity had been peeked. Had this talented witch truly discovered a way to get around the magical interference that most electricity-based muggle contraptions underwent?

"It wouldn't be any trouble, Professor," she replied. Her tone sent a shiver down his spine.

Standing suddenly, he held the boombox and CD to his chest, and bowed his head. "Thank you, for this gift. I am sure, once we successfully employ it, I will enjoy it very much, despite it being intended for muggles."

She gave him a small smirk. "You're welcome. Are you already leaving?"

"Oh, yes," he replied, feeling that to linger would be unwise. "You must finish packing, and I need to patrol the castle soon."

Her face fell slightly, but she nodded all the same. "Alright. Well goodnight, Professor."

He bowed his head again to her, and as he left her room, he thought to himself, _No student has ever given me a Christmas gift before…_

A/N: Hi all. I went ahead and re-edited this chapter and so this is the up-dated version, since my editing in the last version completely sucked. Expect chapter 21 to be up in 1-2 days! And thank you all for your continuous support and comments. I'm so honored to have over 200 follows!


	21. Chapter 21 - Quasi (Almost)

Chapter 21

Quasi

(Almost)

 _His mouth was all over her. Warm, wet, lustful. He started at her lips, kissing her there until they were swollen and red and she was gasping for breath. Then he kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, and moved down to kiss along the left side of her jawline, traveling down to her neck and using his tongue to trace circles across her clavicle. She felt her back arch as he found her left breast and gently pinched her nipple with his teeth._

 _If she had been wearing panties, she knew they'd be soaked. She could feel her wetness dampening the sheets under her._

 _She let out a moan of longing as he dragged his tongue over to her other breast and engulfed her with his hot mouth. His ministrations to her right nipple forced her to rake her hands through his silky raven hair. Her eyes were shut as she focused intently on all the feelings swarming her mind and body. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, all triggering an arousal she hadn't felt often._

 _Her fingers grabbed clumps of his hair, playing with the soft and pliable tresses. She wanted to memorize the feel of him, to have him forever engrained in her mind, so that he was there whenever she needed him._

 _She felt him pull off her nipple and she let out another moan as he trailed gentle kisses down to her bellybutton. He was moving further down her body, towards her eagerly awaiting quim. She could feel his lips getting closer and—_

"Hermione! Mum says breakfast is ready!"

Hermione jolted awake and sat up in her bed, red-faced, sweaty, and extremely wet between her legs. Her heart pounding, she listened as Ginny's knock came at the door again.

"You up?!" Ginny called louder.

"Yes, yes!" she shouted, somewhat more agitated than she had meant to come across as she pushed her curls out of her face. "Be down in a bit!" she assured her friend, not wanting Ginny to open the door to see her flushed head-to-toe.

 _That had been such a good dream…_ she sighed internally. She felt an ache in her chest and knew it wasn't just from having her dream interrupted. She wouldn't even try to deny to herself that she missed him. She had been missing him from the moment she boarded the Hogwarts train with her friends.

It had already been over a week into the winter break. Since the Burrow was undergoing some magical construction due to the pay raise Mr. Weasley had been enjoying and the fact that Mrs. Weasley was also now contributing to their income, the happy couple decided to hire professionals to renovate the Burrow. Harry had suggested to have the holidays at Grimmauld Place and so Hermione, Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were all staying there for the holidays. Hermione was grateful that it wouldn't just be her and Harry as it had been over the summer. Even if Harry and Mr. Weasley had work, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were around and willing to keep Hermione company.

Mrs. Tonks and little Teddy Lupin had come by for Christmas Eve and stayed for Christmas. They, and Neville, and also Luna and Luna's father, were all due to come by later to celebrate the new year, so Hermione knew the house would be bustling with activity soon since Percy and George would be by as well. Ron and Lavender were vacationing in America, to Hermione's relief, while Bill and Fleur were spending time with Charlie in Romania, as Fleur had always longed to visit there.

Luna and her father arrived around noon, followed shortly by Neville. Mrs. Tonks and Teddy arrived in the late afternoon and George, Percy and Mr. Weasley arrived just in time for dinner. Even with all the activity and cheerfulness, Hermione felt somber. Harry noticed, but when he pulled her aside to ask her what the matter was, she waved him away, saying that she only wished her parents could be there, and he seemed to accept her answer. After midnight, however, she broke away from the company and headed to her room. She found she really just wanted to be alone, to manage her thoughts. She did miss her parents, yes, but she also missed Professor Snape, and felt terrible that he was spending the holidays alone. Or, at least, she assumed he was. And she also felt sad, because she knew that if she broke down and confessed to him how she felt about him, he was sure to spurn her.

She could hear laughter downstairs. She knew she should be downstairs with her friends, but she couldn't bring herself to move off the bed.

A small knock sounded at her door. It was softer than Ginny's raucous knock. "Hermione? Are you in there?"

Hermione sighed audibly. "Yes, Luna, I'm here."

"May I come in?" Her voice, always so light and kind, warmed Hermione's insides, despite her wanting to be alone.

"Sure, come on in."

The door creaked open and the golden-haired girl entered quietly. She was holding a crystal glass of red liquid and Hermione immediately thought of Snape with his elderflower wine.

"Did Ginny or Harry send you up here to check on me?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

Luna came and sat on the bed next to her. "No. I noticed you haven't been feeling well. When I saw you leave, I grew worried." Her large eyes were filled with kindness. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Hermione rested her hand on Luna's and said, "Thanks, Luna. I'm fine, really."

Luna shook her head, her infamous radish earrings rocking back and forth with her movements. "Hermione, I know you're not alright…but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. Just know that, whatever it is, I'm here for you, and I'd understand."

Hermione doubted that. How could anyone understand that she fancied her professor? And not just any professor, but Professor Snape...

Then again, Luna wasn't just _anyone_.

"I miss my parents. I know I'll get to see them this summer, but I wish I could be with them now. And… I'm also feeling sad for Professor Snape. I'm almost positive he's spending his holidays alone. And I just feel like I should have invited him or—" she trailed off but thought to herself _should have stayed with him_.

Luna nodded, staring off out the window. It was dark outside except for the streetlamps. "I know you care a great deal for him."

Hermione winced. "Uh, well, I suppose…"

Luna turned and met her gaze. "It's perfectly alright, Hermione. As I told Professor Snape in October, you two have fallen into a parallel and have been helping each other to heal. I think your attraction to one another is a positive, helpful attraction, and nothing to be embarrassed about. I also think that Professor Snape deserves to be surrounded by positive energy, which you seem to be supplying more frequently as of late."

Hermione was taken aback. Luna had spoken with Professor Snape? And they had spoken about her? For a moment, she couldn't find any words to form a reply, let alone her voice. Luckily, she didn't need to speak.

Luna rubbed her upper back affectionately and got up to leave, turning at the door to say, "I think I'll join Harry, Ginny, Neville and George for some Exploding Snap. We'd love for you to join us if you feel better." She waved a hand and then left, leaving Hermione alone to mull over her own thoughts.

-SS-

Before she had left for the holiday break, Miss Granger had been true to her word and had stopped by Severus' chambers in the morning to help him set up his "boombox". She had brought with her a small, thin slat of wood and her wand, looking much too beautiful in a casual red skirt, black tights, and a white sweater. Fighting back the urge to stare, he welcomed her in and immediately questioned why in the world she had a plank of wood with her.

"It's the best conduit for the spell," was her only answer, but she turned back from the boombox to grin at him.

He watched, spellbound, as she quickly set up the muggle music player, opening its back compartment and placing in its batteries (he knew what batteries were since he had seen his father use them frequently) and then she placed the boombox directly on top of the wood. She then opened the small square case and withdrew a circular object she said was the CD.

Thoroughly intrigued, he watched as she tapped her wand to the piece of wood and confidently incantated, " _Expedire_."

"I have not heard of that spell before," he said, curiously.

"That's because I created it," she answered. He knew she was trying to sound nonchalant but heard the hint of pride in her tone.

"And what is its purpose?" Severus inquired, coming to stand closer to her.

"When used on wood, or another kind of material such as stone or paper—but I find it works best with wood—it will create a kind of… clear space around the objects nearest it and keep all magical interference away. The more magic you use while casting the spell, the larger the radius of cleared space there will be. Right now, the cleared space allows for the boombox. This way, the boombox will work as it normally would, being free of all magical interference."

"And to lift the spell?" he asked, concealing his admiration better than she had concealed her pride.

"A simple _Finite_ will do just fine."

And then, she pressed the play button, and "Le Onde" filled his chambers.

It was now New Year's Day, the evening of, and he was sitting in his armchair next to the fire as he remembered how the music had resonated throughout his room and how she had smiled up at him, overjoyed. He closed his eyes as he felt his chest constrict.

He missed her.

Opening his eyes and lifting his hand from his lap, he placed a finger on the boombox, which he had set on the end table next to his chair, and pressed the play button. The CD had left off on "Ombre" and he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes once again and letting the music roll over him like gentle waves. He cracked open an eye and glanced at the grand piano, which looked lonely and cold.

That was how he felt. And until she came back, the boombox was all he had of her.

-HG-

"Harry, stop causing Teddy's hair to turn black. He looks much cuter with the blue," Ginny playfully scolded.

Hermione, Harry and Ginny were sitting at the dining room table, entertaining Teddy while Mrs. Tonks and Mrs. Weasley were preparing lunch. It was the day before Hermione and Ginny would go back to Hogwarts and Hermione was grateful for the distraction the baby supplied.

"It's not my fault he mimics me whenever I hold him," Harry responded, just as playfully. His eyes lit up every time Teddy smiled at him. Hermione couldn't help but look between Harry and Ginny and imagining them with their own kids one day. Since Teddy was currently sporting black hair like Harry's, it wasn't hard to imagine.

"He does the same thing to Draco," Mrs. Tonks said, coming over to the table with a plate full of sandwiches.

"Draco? Malfoy?" Ginny asked, eyebrows raised. Harry looked just as surprised.

Mrs. Tonks nodded. "The very same."

"Professor Snape mentioned he had been visiting you," Hermione supplied, "but I found myself doubting him, since we all know that the Malfoys had, well, intentionally distanced themselves from you."

"Narcissa has contacted me since the end of the war, but she still has yet to visit. I was the one to reach out to Draco, inviting him to come over for supper one evening. He's been spending most of his weekends with Teddy and me ever since."

Hermione, Harry and Ginny were all silent. It seemed that none of them knew how to respond.

"Eat up, everyone!" chimed Mrs. Weasley, breaking the awkward silence. "After lunch George wants us to come to the shop and then I'm sure we'll need to get you two back here to pack your things for tomorrow."

Hermione nodded and reached for a sandwich as the others all voiced their excitement at the prospect of takin Teddy to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for his first visit. Teddy gurgled in delight and reached his hand towards the plate as Hermione had, his hair suddenly turning back to its vibrant blue.

"Well, looks like this one loves sandwiches more than me," Harry laughed. Everyone at the table chuckled along and Teddy looked up at Hermione, eyes bright and interested. Today, his eyes were a dark black, and as Hermione met his eyes, she was forcibly reminded of Snape.

She made herself look away. It was as if, every day, she found something that reminded her of him, and her longing to see him only increased. Thank goodness she would be on her way back to Hogwarts in less than 24 hours. She could hardly wait.

-SS-

They were back. _She_ was back.

As if she hadn't been away for two weeks, they immediately fell into their daily routine. She continued to attend her classes and visit his sitting room in the evenings, sometimes later than others if her friends wanted to spend time with her after dinner. Severus found that as long as she visited him, he didn't much mind the lateness of the hour, or how long they had together. It was her wanting to be with him that was most important to him.

It was the first week of February when they were walking up to the seventh floor when she confessed she finally felt safe enough to sleep in her own room without him sleeping across the hall from her. She rambled, saying things such as "I know you probably prefer your own room to Zabini's, so I'm grateful you stayed in his room for the last few months" and "I'm going to miss the reassurance I feel with you right across the hall, but it feels wrong to request that you stay there when I know I don't really _need_ you to anymore."

Feeling both relieved and saddened, he became irritated, and didn't say much in reply except for, "So I've walked you to your room only to walk back down to the dungeons?"

She turned to him, looking hurt, and he immediately regretted the coldness he had let slip into his tone. To rectify the situation, he unlocked her room for her, stepped inside, and beckoned her in with his hand. She looked at him, clearly confused, but entered nevertheless.

"Thank you, again, for the CD and the boombox. Sometimes, I listen to it while brewing. And it was very comforting this past Christmas holiday."

His unspoken words, of how he had missed her—longed for her, thought of her every day—while she had been away, dangled in the quiet air between them. She held his gaze for a few moments and then nodded.

"I'm glad," she whispered. Though he felt she, too, was adding to the unspoken words between them.

Feeling it would be foolish to continue to linger, lest he say something he would regret, he bid her goodnight. Instead of returning to his chambers, though, he walked the castle halls until he became too tired to think straight. He slumped into bed and quickly slipped into dreams of her brown curls and giggles.

-HG-

"The potion we brewed together in your sixth year proved vital to my survival."

It was now the end of March. Hermione had been working on her parent's potion while Snape sat at the desk behind her, grading papers. They had both been silent for quite a while so, at first, she didn't know if she had heard him correctly, or had perhaps imagined his words altogether.

"It saved my life."

She paused her brewing, her hands suspended over the cauldron as her mind carefully digested his words. She was suddenly plunged into memory.

She was back in her sixth year. Professor Snape had called her to stay behind after class and had declared that they would begin using her prearranged private potion lessons to focus on one specific potion; one that was experimental and could prove to be highly volatile.

"I...would appreciate your assistance on a very important potion." Professor Snape had said, his black eyes as penetrating as ever, causing her to feel fearful and excited. A very important potion? And he was asking her for her assistance? Was it a potion that he was brewing for the Order? Just how important was it?

But she hadn't the courage to ask.

The image of a glass vial full of dark red, nearly black, liquid came to the forefront of her mind. The label on the vial read "Ni vemon" and the scrawl on the vial did not belong to Snape, but to Professor Dumbledore.

"Without that potion…I would surely be dead. And it was because of your assistance that we were able to finish brewing it in time…" were the words that pulled her out of her memories.

She still had her back turned to him. She began brewing again as she replied, "I've known what the potion we brewed was meant for ever since the day I saved you. The potion was an antidote to Nagini's venom, or so you and Dumbledore hoped it would be." She couldn't see him, but she could feel his gaze burning into her back. "I didn't admit to you that I knew the truth because I didn't want to bring us back to the events of the war."

He didn't respond, so she kept brewing with her back to him. After adding a few more ingredients and stirring as his instructions indicated she watched as the potion began to emit a faint golden mist. Her eyes grew wide and she let out a gasp. "Professor!"

Snape was at her side immediately. He gently took the stirring rod from her and in doing so caused their hand to brush against each other. Her skin tingled where the contact had been made. Her breath hitched, she hoped he hadn't noticed, and could only watch as he began to stir the potion slowly. His eyes were trained intently on the potion while he used his other hand to bring the fire under the cauldron down to a single flame.

"Retrieve a few clean vials from the storeroom, Miss Granger. This potion is complete."

Her heart pounding with excitement, she ran to the storeroom, found the empty clean vials, and rushed back to his side. He withdrew his wand and began guiding the golden liquid into vials one by one. Hermione withdrew her own wand and copied his movements until they had eight vials filled and the cauldron was empty.

"Professor…" she breathed, gazing up at him with awe and happiness. They had done it. They had succeeded. Her parents would have their memories back.

Snape turned to her and he smiled. Not his normal smirk; not even the small smile he normally gave her. This grin showed his teeth and reached up to his eyes. She felt herself suck in a breath of surprise. He looked ten years younger when he smiled.

She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head onto his chest. She felt tears of happiness well up in her eyes as she whispered to him, "Oh, Professor. Thank you so much. We've done it. We've really done it." She could feel his sparse chest hairs through the thin fabric of his white shirt. She could hear his heart thrumming, a steady and calm beat.

Her professor wrapped his arms around her and gently returned her embrace. Her heart raced and she shut her eyes, determined to forever remember this feeling. She longed for him to reach his hands into her hair, pull back her head, and kiss her.

He whispered, "We did indeed, Miss Granger. This summer you can find your parents and restore their memories to them."

Hermione leaned back and stared up at him, meeting his dark eyes. "Professor, will you come with me?" she heard herself speaking the words before she could contemplate them.

He blinked, as if caught off guard.

Continuing to be bold, she added, "Please, Professor, it would mean so much to me if you accompanied me this summer. It's because of you that this is even possible. I will have my parents back… because of you." She stared at him, every atom in her body imploring him to say yes.

He didn't reply. Instead, he raised his hand and gently tucked a strand of her curly hair behind her right ear. She held her breath. Her skin smoldered where his hand had touched. They were staring intently into one another's eyes and she didn't dare blink.

As his hand lingered by her cheek, she could feel her heart pounding. Her body felt like it was on fire and she was desperately thinking over and over _Kiss him, kiss him, just kiss him_. She tilted her chin up and parted her lips.

"Professor Snape!"

They broke apart as if they had been blasted by a jinx. Hermione backed into one of the desks, letting out a sharp gasp of pain as her tailbone hit the sharp wooden edge. Snape, however, was striding toward his private lab's door, where the call for him had come from.

Hermione watched as her professor flicked his wand and his cloak and teaching robes wrapped around him. He then opened the door and she could see a tall, blonde Slytherin boy standing in the hallway.

"Sorry to bother you, Professor, but there's been a brawl in the common room."

"I'll be there momentarily, Evans."

"Yes, Sir."

Snape turned back to Hermione from the doorway. For a moment, it seemed he didn't know what to say. Then, very formal and abrupt, he dipped his head into a small bow and said, "I will consider your request, Miss Granger. Now, I must attend to these ridiculous children." He turned, then paused. She held her breath. He looked over his shoulder and their eyes met from across the room. "I shall see you tomorrow?" he asked.

Hermione nodded but did not respond. Her chest was heaving. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was aching.

He gave her a curt nod and then vanished from the room with his robes billowing behind him. Hermione watched him go, wondering if he would have stopped her had she kissed him—wondering if he would ha kissed her back—wondering if she would ever have the chance to know…

A/N: Okay, for those of you desperately wanting these two to kiss BEFORE she graduates...don't hold your breath. I made this Sev to be an up-standing no-hanky-panky-with-students kind of man. So, hang out for just three more chapters and then continue one with me in PART TWO where you'll get to see a bit of a different side of things. I won't give away much more than that. I can only hope that you all continue to support the story and stay along with me for the ride of not only the rest of PART ONE, but for PART TWO as well!


	22. Chapter 22 - La Scoperta (Discovery)

Chapter 22

La Scoperta

(Discovery)

April had arrived quickly, and Hermione was spending much of her free time studying for her NEWTs. Even her friends could be seen buried behind a pile of books in the library. Neville wanted to get enough NEWTs to start an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout after he graduated, while Ginny wanted to get enough NEWTs to get her mother off her back, and Luna wanted to get enough NEWTs to go into a private field of study of Magical Creatures and possibly become a Magizooloist. Hermione just wanted to get Outstanding in all her classes. She wasn't sure yet what she would do for a career. Her main focus was on excelling in every subject, and then finding her parents.

Professor Snape had still not given Hermione an answer regarding her invite to accompany her to find her parents. And recently he had seemed more formal with her than he had been. Fortunately, he still welcomed her into his sitting room, but she found she was so stressed about her classes and upcoming exams that she spent most of her time, whether in the library, his sitting room, or her own room, studying.

She was dreading her Defence Against the Dark Arts practical examination. That was why, during one of their private lessons, she approached Professor Snape and asked if they could practice a particular spell she had always had trouble with. It was, in fact, the same spell that they had attempted to practice in her sixth year, but the lesson had been interrupted by her sudden explosion of emotions.

"I... was hoping we could practice the… Patronus charm."

His eyebrows raised in surprise and also, she could tell, amusement. "So that is why you wished to meet in the Arithmancy classroom. As I understand it, there is a Boggart that has taken up residence in one of the cabinets." He was surveying her carefully. "However, I cannot help but notice," he drawled, "You don't seem very enthused." He was smirking as his eyes held hers steadily.

She would be unashamedly honest. It would be the brave thing to do. Taking in a deep breath, she admitted, "It's one of the hardest charms I've ever cast. It always has been since Harry taught me in our fifth year. I was able to cast and produce a corporeal Patronus, but it never seemed to last long, and on other few occasions it took me a few attempts to get the corporeal Patronus to appear. I want to be able to produce mine immediately and reliably." She decided not to mention their failed lesson in her sixth year.

He was still smirking at her, but instead of taunting her he just said, "If Potter taught you correctly, he would have warned you that it is a very difficult spell to perform. Some wizards and witches, especially those who practice Dark Magic, are unable to produce a corporeal Patronus."

"And somehow that really doesn't make me feel better," Hermione said in annoyance. His smirk widened in reply. She sighed. "Yes, Harry did warn us all that it was very advanced magic… but still… he produced one when he was only thirteen..." She glanced down at her wand.

"Due to extraordinary circumstances, yes, he did. While it tortures me to give Potter any praise, his ability to cast a corporeal Patronus at such a young age reveals how pure of heart he is, as well as being naturally gifted in Defence Against the Dark Arts—despite his frustrating performance while I taught him."

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I'm almost positive that's the only compliment you've ever given him."

"Which is why I expect you _not_ to repeat it to him." He gave her a hard, cold stare, one that would cause nearly every other student to shake in their shoes. But not her.

Still, she didn't want to take on the duty of acting the part of an owl and knew it would be more impacting if Snape praised Harry himself. "I'll not dare breathe a word," she assured him. He continued to stare her down, so she added, "You can stop looking at me like that. I'd rather _you_ tell Harry yourself."

"Don't hold your breath," he growled.

She shrugged, acting as nonchalant as she could while wanting to throttle him for his obstinance. "Maybe one day you will tell him, you never know…" she supplied quietly, but did not want him to continue arguing with her so she added quickly, "Well? Are you willing to teach me? I know you can make one, as Harry and Ron both saw it."

Her professor's face darkened. "I would rather not."

She gawked openly at him, both put off and slightly hurt. She had expected some resistance on his part, but not an all-out refusal. And, she had hoped he wouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed by his doe Patronus… not with her, at least. Not after all they had shared about one another that year.

Just as she was about to protest, he continued, "However, knowing that our Headmistress would never let me hear the end of it if I ignored your request to help you produce an exceptional Patronus, I have no choice but to teach you."

"Great!" Hermione smiled at him, ignoring his glare. "So, I already know the incantation, and that I need to speak, or think, the incantation while also thinking of a happy memory—"

Snape cut her off. "It doesn't need to be a memory. A powerful, happy _thought_ alone can conjure a Patronus. Most wizards and witches find, however, that the more real the thought, the stronger the Patronus—hence the instruction of choosing a memory."

"I wish I had known that sooner..." Hermione muttered, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"Not enough happy memories to choose from, Miss Granger? I find that incredibly difficult to believe." She looked up at him as her stomach clenched. He was sneering at her. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd still be sneering if he knew his words had created the uncomfortable tightness in her gut.

"Then you don't know me as well as I thought," she retorted.

He frowned, but didn't comment on her statement, probably because he knew it was true. But how she wished it wasn't true. She _wanted_ him to know her better—know her more. "Is there anything else I should do to increase my chance at producing a corporeal Patronus?" she asked, breaking the awkward pause.

"You need to focus on the incantation, but not so much so that it takes away from the happy emotion your memory or thought induces. In addition, you need to maintain enough focus on the happy thought or memory so that situations—such as being attacked by a Dementor or Lethifold—do not cause you to lose that happy emotion."

Smirking, she said, "I don't think I've heard you say the word 'happy' so many times."

"I will say again, Miss Granger, I would very much like to be teaching you anything else _but_ this charm."

At his words, she was suddenly overcome with images of him teaching her things that were definitely _not_ the Patronus charm. Turning away from him so he wouldn't be able to see her blush—or look into her eyes with the possibility of accessing her thoughts as he had done before—she cleared her throat. "Well, too bad for you, as you said, Professor McGonagall would never let you hear the end of it if you didn't teach me." She was frantically trying to push the embarrassing images and scenes out of her head as she turned back to him.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, scowling.

Suddenly feeling nervous, she nodded. "Let me try to find a memory—or thought—that will be powerful enough."

She closed her eyes and reached back into her memories. There was the day she had received her OWL results. But, no, she had gotten only an E in Defence Against the Dark Arts, which had caused her to feel disappointed as she had really, really wanted to get all Os. Holding hands with Ron and Harry after the battle, realizing that it was finally all over? Yes, that had been a great feeling. But what if that one didn't work? Was there another she could fall back on? Vacationing in Italy with her mother and father. That had been one of the happiest moments in her life, for certain.

Allowing her eyes to open, she came back into the classroom and out of her memories. "Alright, I'm ready."

Her professor pointed his wand towards the cabinet with the Boggart. "While a Dementor is not your worst fear, Miss Granger, it will appear as what you are dreading the most at this moment. Which you have, no doubt, worked out that your worst fear is not being able to produce a Patronus charm to fight off the Dementor. As a Boggart cannot take the form of a failure, it can take the form of the cause of your failure, being the Dementor."

Yes," she said quietly.

"Good. Do you have your memory?"

She nodded, feeling sweat beginning to form in the palm holding her wand.

"Miss Granger?" he was giving her a calculating look.

She squared her shoulders and said firmly, "Yes. I have it."

Snape opened the cabinet with a flick of his wand and out came the Dementor—enormous, dark, and immediately sucking all happiness from the room. Hermione gripped her wand and focused on the happy and relieved feeling she had experienced at the end of the battle. "Expecto Patronum!" A burst of silver mist shot out, and the Dementor halted, but the corporeal Patronus did not appear. She watched as the silver mist began to fade as the vile creature pushed towards her and she frantically recalled the feeling of giddiness and excitement she had experienced while vacationing in Italy with her parents.

"Expecto Patronum!" she said, stronger this time. The silver mist burst into a shield, pushing the Dementor back, but still the corporeal Patronus did not appear. And as Hermione continued to remember her trip to Italy, the faces of her smiling parents swarmed to the front of her mind. But then their smiles dropped and the flash of their faces, stony and pale, suffocated her thoughts. She could only watch, in distress, as the Dementor vanished.

The Boggart had transformed into the lifeless forms of her mother and father.

"No!" Her scream pierced the room.

Just as her scream died, her professor had stepped in front of her and blocked her view. "Riddikulus!" she heard him say, confidently, but she could not see what had replaced the lifeless forms of her parents. Whatever it had been was transformed into a dove and flew, gracefully, back into the cabinet.

Snape rounded on her. "What happened, Miss Granger?" He didn't hiss or snarl, but his stare was so penetrating that she still felt her skin crawl with fear and shame.

"I—I had a flashback of my nightmare and then—"

"Yes, I know what happened then. I told you to _focus_. I thought it would have been apparent that now is not the time to think of your nightmares," he snapped.

"Please, let me try again," she pleaded. "I'll think of something different. Something that won't cause me to think of my parents…"

"Surely, you had an additional memory prepared?" His dark eyes surveyed her intently.

"That _was_ my additional memory," she replied, embarrassed and frustrated. She felt like a complete fool, and he wasn't making her feel any better as he pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious agitation.

"Please, Professor, at least let me try once more," she begged.

"Fine. _One_ more attempt. If you cannot produce a corporeal Patronus, you will need to seek help from someone else. Minerva, perhaps." She knew that by the slip of the headmistress' first name he was very irritated.

"I understand," she whispered. "Give me some time to think of something happier."

She closed her eyes again and thought harder. Receiving her letter that she had been accepted to Hogwarts? No, she had been too anxious and confused—happy, yes, but not happy enough. The day she bought Crookshanks? No… while that had been a tremendously exciting day for her, finally having a gorgeous pet to call her own, it hadn't been happy enough. When she and Ron had finally kissed? No… while that had been a wonderful moment, it was short lived, and the thought of Ron now caused her to feel unhappy. Scrunching up her eyes in growing frustration, she prayed that Snape wasn't about to tell her that he had changed his mind…

Snape.

The dark, mysterious professor, making the effort to help her find a cure for her parents, going through with his decision even after their row, and helping her to succeed. They had found a cure. Together. And finding the cure had caused her to feel elated. Not just that, but the professor himself caused so many emotions to flood through her—happiness, comfort, security, awe, burning desire. Yes, she still felt hesitant around him, and he embarrassed her and sometimes frustrated her, but he had been there for her when no one else had been. And he had kept his promise.

"Miss Granger—"

"I've got it." Her eyes snapped open and focused directly on her professor. Severus Snape, in his midnight black robes and his hematite eyes boring into her as if reaching down to her soul. Severus Snape, one of the smartest, and bravest, wizards she had ever known.

"Are you sure? I was not merely threatening when—"

"I know," she cut him off again, her voice confident. "I have my memory."

"Very well." And she caught the hint of a sigh in his reply. "Prepare yourself," he commanded, raising his wand.

She watched as the cabinet opened with a click. The doors swung toward her and out glided the Dementor again, sucking and rasping and creating an icy chill that permeated the room. She stared directly at its gaping mouth, but instead of seeing the revolting creature, she was remembering how happy she had felt when they had completed the potion that would bring back her parents' memories…and how her happiness had increased by a tenfold when her professor held her close to him and then proceeded to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart swelled.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" she shouted so loud she heard her incantation reverberate off the walls of the classroom.

A silver creature burst from her wand and charged towards the Dementor. Running on four legs, it leapt into the air, claws outstretched, and rammed right into the oncoming dark form. The Dementor immediately swooped away, gliding back into the cabinet.

Hermione held her wand steady, but she was frozen in shock at the creature before her. She had remembered that her corporeal Patronus had been an otter, but this… this was no otter.

"Well done, Miss Granger," her professor said, magically closing the cabinet and then folding his arms across his chest, turning his head from her to survey her Patronus, which was now standing guard near the cabinet, prepared to guard its witch from the Dementor should it remerge. "This Patronus will serve you well," he continued, not realizing that Hermione was barely listening.

-SS-

When his student had failed to reply, he turned away from her bright Patronus and saw that she was staring, slack-jawed and apparently in utter astonishment, at her corporeal Patronus. Was she so doubtful that she would have been able to successfully cast the charm? She had seemed quite confident with the memory or thought she had chosen. So why was she looking so awestruck? Then it dawned on him.

"This is not the Patronus you cast before, is it, Miss Granger?" he asked her, watching as the light in her eyes caused by the Patronus faded away as the spectral guardian disappeared back into the ether.

"N-no," she stuttered.

"I see. And what was it before?"

"An… otter."

He nodded to himself and pondered her answer. "How very interesting. It seems that something has happened to you since you last cast your otter that caused your Patronus to change form. Or, perhaps your otter Patronus was being influenced by something that no longer influences you. Are you surprised at the new form it took?"

"Yes, actually," she replied.

He couldn't help but smirk at her. "Really? Are you perturbed that your new Patronus is a Kneazle?"

His student turned to look at him then, instead of staring at the last spot her Patronus had been. Her expression took on a familiar look of defiance as she replied, "Of course not! I love it!"

He felt his smirk fall. And then he remembered. Her cat, the one she carried around with her half of her third year, had been half-Kneazle. He could tell by its appearance that it was a Kneazle hybrid. And here he had been expecting her to be embarrassed or confused. It wasn't anything like an otter, well, except for its ability to be unpredictably aggressive and annoyingly determined. Now that he thought about it, the Kneazle _and_ otter seemed compatible with the fiery Gryffindor.

Finding his smirk again, he ignored the envious feeling that had crept upon him suddenly and drawled, "It took you long enough to find a suitable memory. I was expecting you to burst from the effort you were using just to find one." It was a pathetic excuse for an insult, but he was feeling unpredictably caught off guard.

She returned his smirk with one of her own. "Oh? Well, I'm beginning to seriously question your ability to produce a corporeal Patronus, no matter what Harry or Ron may have told me. I've never seen you genuinely happy. I've tried to imagine it, believe me, but I always come up short."

She had tried to imagine him happy? For some reason the thought made his stomach perform a summersault. Ignoring this, he sneered, "You doubt my ability, or are you just curious to see if Potter's and Weasley's description is accurate?"

"Does it matter?"

He glared. But, his own curiosity soon got the better of him. He hadn't produced his Patronus since two winters ago when he had sent it as a messenger to Potter. Was he still able to produce one? Had his near-death experience possibly made it so he no longer could?

He raised his wand and pressed his lips together tightly, bracing himself for what was sure to come prancing out of his wand tip—Lily's doe.

Lily's smiling face immediately came to the front of his mind, as it had always done when he prepared to conjure his Patronus. But just as he began to speak the incantation, Lily's face changed into that of Miss Granger's. Her wild hair was whipping about her and her mouth was parted into a wide grin as she laughed. Snape's shock wasn't enough to stop his incantation and before he knew it, he had finished the spell and a silver shape was beginning to take form.

Granger stepped back and gasped, her eyes growing wide at the sight of his corporeal Patronus. He found he himself could only stand and stare in amazement as the silver guardian leaped and prowled around the room.

"I thought your Patronus was a doe, Professor?" Granger asked, following the silver shape with her large eyes.

He did not know what to say. He had been expecting a doe, too. Instead, the creature before him had a sleek, lean, long body that stood almost three feet from the ground. As he followed his Patronus' graceful and powerful movements, he finally realized what his new Patronus signified.

He was no longer bound to Lily.

This new Patronus was entirely his own, devoted to him as an individual instead of him as a man bound by love—instead of a man filled with guilt and regret. And, it really shouldn't have shocked him, as his new wand's core was that of this creature's hair. If the wand had chosen him then there was always the possibility, though slight, of the same creature having an affinity with him.

His new Patronus, having leapt around the entire classroom only to find it devoid of any threat, prowled back to the wizard who had conjured it. Severus reached out his hand and the Patronus came forward as if to let him pet it and Severus slowly raised his hand. Before his fingers met its muzzle, it vanished, as if it had never been there.

There was a silence now. Both professor and student were in awe of what they had just witnessed. Even more so than at having seen Granger's new Kneazle Patronus.

"Was that... did you know...?"

"No. It has been over a year since I have cast this charm."

"But… why a Wampus?"

"Why not a Wampus?" He knew he was bristling. For the longest time he had been too embarrassed and ashamed to reveal his doe Patronus to anyone except Albus. He would not be given any reason to be humiliated because of this new one.

"I didn't mean it as an offence, Professor," the witch said timidly. "I only just wondered, well, the Wampus cat signifies a warrior's spirit, if I remember correctly. I've never thought of you as a warrior. I've always seen you as a... well, a scholar, or healer, even."

He trained his eyes on her, realizing she did not mean to offend him with her question. She was merely being curious. Of course. "While I will accept that as a compliment, do understand, Miss Granger, that a Patronus reflects what is deep inside of a person—a secret, if you will— _not_ what the person would normally reveal in their day to day personality… well, not usually. Only few wizards and witches have a Patronus that matches their personality, and fewer still have a Patronus that matches that as their most beloved creature. Usually it is only untrustworthy—or rather eccentric—wizards and witches who have that result. Your friend Miss Lovegood, for example. Her favorite animal is a rabbit and her Patronus is also a rabbit. She is, as we both know, quite a… rare… individual." He felt his lips curl slightly, but after the conversation he had experienced with Miss Lovegood in the forest, it was not an expression of cruelty, just slight humor. "Furthermore, I would not have guessed your new Patronus to be a Kneazle, but nor would I have guessed an otter. However, it does make sense after given some thought. Both otter and Kneazles are intelligent. Kneazles are loyal companions but are also known to be aggressive. While your Patronus before, the otter, was known to be playful, it was also known to have an aggressive side. It seems that your inner ego reflects an animal that is capable lashing out and inflicting pain."

Now it was her turn to bristle. He watched as she crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Or it means that my inner ego reflects an animal that is capable of defending itself."

"You might have noticed that I have since bought a new wand since mine was destroyed in the battle," Severus continued, as if he hadn't heard her.

She nodded but was still glaring at him.

"As you also know, I was sent to America to fully recover from my injuries at one of their private medical institutes in Virginia."

His student nodded again, her hard stare faltering as her curiosity began to get the better of her.

"While in America, I visited a local wand shop and purchased my new wand." He raised the mahogany wand, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, to examine it. "This wand chose me after I had tried a few others."

"You bought an American wand?" Granger breathed, her eyes growing round and wide again. She took a few steps closer to examine the wand with him.

"Yes," he replied, finding himself pleased with her interest. "It is made by Johannes Jonker's grandson, who followed in the steps of his grandfather to become a wandmaker. Would you like to take a guess at which magical creature, native to America, had its hair used to form the core of my wand?"

His student's mouth fell open in wonderment. "A Wampus?"

He nodded, feeling the sides of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

She shook her head. "It still doesn't make sense to me, though."

He sighed, letting a small amount of aggravation slip into his tone as he explained, " _Other_ than being known for representing the body and warrior aspect of a wizard or witch, the Wampus is also known for its skill in both hypnotism and _legilimency_."

He watched as the words sunk in and she brought her gaze from the wand to his eyes. "That's incredible," she whispered.

"Indeed?" he asked, somewhat mockingly.

"But it is, really!" she insisted. "It's as if this Patronus was inside of you all along, waiting for…its chance." She continued to stare into his eyes and he felt his heart begin to quicken its pace as she said, "I wonder why it has, only now, appeared… I wonder what about you has changed?"

 _I've begun to care about you_ , was the response that immediately came to the front of his mind. But he knew that wasn't the only reason, perhaps not even the most prominent. There were so many reasons as to why it was no longer the doe, he realized, and those reasons, prompted by her question, came flooding into his mind. He was resolved from his guilt over Lily's death. He had saved her son and had helped defeat the wizard who had killed her. He was free of obligation, free of being a Death Eater, free of being a spy. He had very nearly died. Surely all of those were contributors to the change in his Patronus. It could not just be…her.

The reality of his new Patronus allowed him to understand that maybe he was, finally, becoming free. Or, as the odd Miss Lovegood had said, maybe he was purifying—unbinding—and that, at least, was something. A positive notion he could grasp.

And then there was her… the young, talented, tender witch before him, who he knew longed to be close to him. Closer than he would allow. Closer than they already were. She wanted to be his friend. She, perhaps, thought she wanted to be more. But he didn't know how, or why, she had convinced herself to feel that way about him. And he knew it wouldn't be appropriate, considering she was his student. Is that why he still felt trapped? Because he was holding himself back from _her_?

"Professor?"

"You posed a question," he said quietly, darkly, "And I'll pose mine. Why, Miss Granger, did it take you so long to find a memory or thought that was happy enough to produce your Patronus?"

"Like I said, Professor, you clearly don't know me as well as I thought."

-HG-

Snape sneered at her, his dark eyes glinting. "And as I once said before in your sixth year, I do know you, Miss Granger. Do you not remember?"

Of course she remembered. How could she forget something like that? Her dark, mysterious potions professor pulling her apart and putting her back together like a puzzle in just a few sentences. She remembered it like it had happened yesterday…

"I know who you are, Miss Granger."

"You don't know anything about me, Professor."

"Oh, but I do. Muggleborn, enamored with all things magical, determined to prove yourself in a world where many believe you incapable of being of any worth in this world, and because of that, faced with many forms of ridicule, including disgust and jealousy and annoyance. And yet you overcome that with the help of your... _dunderhead_ friends. Meanwhile, preparing yourself for an ever-nearing war. Afraid for your friends, afraid for your parents, but lastly afraid for yourself. I do know you, Miss Granger. Oh, I do."

Coming out of the short reverie, that's when she realized… he may have been right back then, but she was different now. She was not that same witch. And she knew she would continue to change. Who was he to think he knew who she was now? Because she had told him of some of her fears and worries? Because he had seen her cry, laugh, play the piano? Because they had worked on a potion together? That didn't mean he knew her. He wouldn't let her get close enough for him to know her.

Holding her head up, she goaded him. "But you don't know who I am. If you're about to stand there and tell me that I'm the same student you once had, the student who was determined to find worth in this world, then you're wrong."

"But that is not what I would say." He was still sneering at her with the same glint in his black eyes.

"Then if you know who I am, tell me," she challenged.

"You are an exhausted young woman looking to have some quiet and peace in life now that the war is over, the battle ended and won. You want to, finally, move onto something better. A new life, in which you can, finally, pursue your dreams."

Hermione gave him a small smile and stepped closer to him. She saw him stiffen and tried to imagine what he felt: invasion, nervousness, longing?

"No, Professor, that is not who I am." She slowly reached out and gently touched the tips of his long fingers. She heard him drag in a sharp breath, but when he didn't pull away, she grabbed his hand and gently squeezed.

She brought her gaze up to his, met his dark irises, held onto them steadily for a few long seconds, then let her hand fall from his.

Then she turned and walked, resolutely, out of the dungeon classroom, forcing herself not to glance back.

A/N: Thank you for all of your encouraging and supportive comments! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hang on to your knickers because after this there's only two chapters left until I post PART TWO!


	23. Chapter 23 - Lontano (Far)

Chapter 23

Lontano

(Far)

How long had she harbored feelings for the dark, cold and callous potions professor? She would have tried convincing herself that her feelings for the man had just recently began, perhaps after learning of all he had done to help the downfall of Voldemort, but she knew she'd be lying.

She could clearly remember how deeply his cruel words had affected her in her fourth year, when her teeth had been jinxed. She remembered the way she felt so confused as to why he continued to bully her and her friends in their fifth year, even though he was part of the Order and Dumbledore clearly trusted him. She remembered how much he had helped her during their private lessons in her sixth year, and how his callous demeanor seemed to soften in response to her breakdown during her Defence Against the Dark Arts private lesson. She had also been devastated to know that he had murdered Dumbledore, but then felt utterly relieved when she was told that it had all been a plan for the greater good. And she would not dare ever deny how happy she had felt when she learnt that he had not died, and that the potion they had brewed together during her sixth year had aided in his full recovery. All those feelings proved she had cared long before just recently.

And now? She longed for him. In ways she never would have believed herself to ever feel for him. She longed to kiss him, to feel him, to know him. She longed for him to want to know her in the same way. But he was so proud. So obstinate. He was so…

Just a man. He was a man. She was a woman. And she would not hide her true feelings from him any longer.

-SS-

He could not believe he had let her so easily under his skin.

Sighing, he pulled off his teaching robes and unbuttoned his black jacket, setting them on the back of the armchair in his private quarters. He ran his hand through his hair and tugged on it in frustration. How had he let it come this far? Why was he so weak around her? When had she first tugged at his admiration? He would have tried to convince himself that it had only happened recently, but he felt that was not the truth. So, when had it began?

Sitting in his armchair, he pulled out his wand and non-verbally cast the _Incendio_ charm to ignite the fireplace. He closed his eyes, brought his fingers to his temples, rubbed them, and delved into the dark recesses of his memories.

"What is your problem?"

There she was, frizzled hair, determined eyes, lips slightly forming the shape of a pout, arms crossed over her chest with her school bag slung over her shoulder, a book in her arms. The fifth-year Miss Granger, in all her teenage glory.

In both irritation and mild shock, Severus' head snapped up from the essay he had been grading. He hadn't even heard her approach.

"Miss Granger?" was all he could utter in reply.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Sir?" She was almost (almost) spitting the words out.

His face became a mask of fury. "How dare you speak to me so disrespectfully!" he hissed.

She continued if he hadn't spoken, "You have a job. You have students who like you—hell, Malfoy practically worships you—and you're in _the Order_ , for Merlin's sake! Can't you just lay off me, Harry and Ron for ONE day? Not to mention Neville who you practically torture—"

"50 points from—"

She shouted over him, drowning out his verbal punishment. "Is your life truly so MISERABLE that bullying students—bullying _children_ —is the only thing that will give you a rise?"

He couldn't help his mouth from falling agape. Never in his teaching career had he been spoken to like that by a student. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened just enough for him to whisper dangerously, "It is not the only thing that gives me a rise, Miss Granger."

Severus watched as she glared at him, but he noticed that her face began to flush a deep crimson. "I do not understand you, Professor," she muttered.

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose and allowed his demeanor to slowly change. His shoulders slouched, his eyes dropped to stare, unseeingly, at his black dragonhide boots. "Of course you do not understand. As you have already stated, you are a student—a mere _child_ —and so, you could not possibly understand."

"What I want to understand is why you're so horrible to everyone except the Slytherins."

"As I said, you would not be able to understand."

"Try me." Her biting words were a blatant challenge, and very unlike the know-it-all Gryffindor who never wanted to lose points for her House. Perhaps Umbridge's reign had caused her to begin caring less about school rules.

For a moment, he hesitated, considering his next words as he surveyed the haughty Miss Granger standing so resolutely in front of him. "I will not. You are a student. You are not someone who deserves my explanation."

"But—" she began to protest.

"60 points from Gryffindor," Severus snapped, wanting nothing more than for her to abandon her tirade and leave his classroom.

"You know as well as I do that two days of classes and I'll have gained those 60 points back."

He glared at the know-it-all witch and rose to his feet, leaning over his desk toward her, menacingly. He felt his black hair clinging to the sharp edges of his face where his skin was perspiring. She wasn't afraid of his wrath, and that infuriated him as much as it exhausted him.

"You may be one of the cleverest students in this school, Miss Granger, but that does not mean that you are entitled to know everything, not matter how insufferably persistent you may be. I am your professor. You are my student. You will do well to remember that."

Severus watched as she held back her retort. It was true, he was well aware she could win back 60 points in two days. However, he also knew that she didn't want to receive a detention, having such a clean record already, and probably wanting to keep it that way.

"You are dismissed." He waved his hand in a swatting like motion. If she was smarter than she was stubborn, she would leave.

With nothing more but a sigh of frustration, Miss Granger turned on her heels and stormed out of the room.

When the door had slammed behind her and a few moments passed, Snape reflected on her unexpected outburst. Yes, he enjoyed rewarding his Slytherin students, as the House in general was slandered by most of the other students and staff. But to be questioned by one of his pupils for a reason he behaved the way he did? What nerve. He should have given her detention _and_ taken away House points. He should have made her eternally regret ever having spoken to him in that manner—expecting that he would actually accept her brazen confidence and audacity. He should have sent her straight to Minerva to be punished for her mouth… That little, annoying, exhausting, know-it-all Gryffindor witch.

There was a quiet knock on his door that brought Severus out of his reverie. He ignored it.

 _Yes, that must have been the day_ , he thought to himself. The day he, perhaps subconsciously, allowed her to place a pinprick into his mind.

Granger had not come to his sitting room later that night after dinner as she had previously. He did not find this abnormal, however, as the past few days she had taken to studying in the evening with her friends and retiring to bed before her curfew.

The knock on the door came again, louder this time.

He glanced at his grandfather clock. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. What student in their right mind would be calling on him at this hour? He knew it was not a professor, for they would have simply flooed into his sitting room, had it been an emergency, which was usually the only time any of his colleagues called on him.

Growling under his breath, Severus strode into his private lab and swung the door open, planning to berate the imbecile who was bothering him.

And there, standing before him, now a more mature and confident witch than the one from his memories, was Miss Granger. And she looked just as resolute and determined as she had on that day years before… but now…

Well, now she looked beautiful.

She wore a nightgown he had not seen. It wasn't special, but the light orange fabric, like the sun as it broke across the sky in the early morning, looked glorious against her complexion. Perhaps it had been a Christmas gift? He could tell that the material was silky, and he couldn't ignore how it clung to her curves. She had on white slippers and he could just barely see her delicate ankles. Her hair was down and of course curly, but for once her tresses weren't sticking out everywhere, but formed around her face and draped over her back and shoulders in an almost peaceful manner.

Closing his eyes for a mere second, he gained control of himself and forced out, "Miss…Granger. To what do I owe this unexpected burst of knocking at my door in the wee hours of the morning?"

"I need to speak with you," she huffed. It seemed as if she was out of breath. Had she run there? Was anything the matter? She didn't appear to be frantic or upset, just determined. "Please," she added when he did not immediately invite her in.

Severus stepped back to make space for her to pass and she entered the lab and then on into his chambers. He noticed that she strode with purpose, though her hands were shaking slightly. What was the matter with the young woman?

She walked over to one of his bookshelves and stared up at it, as if browsing for a book.

"Surely you have not interrupted me at this hour for reading material?" He tried to sound angry, but knew he was failing dismally. He was desperate to know why she was there.

She spun around, hair flying up around her, finally taking on its more usual feisty form. "I don't know how to say what I need to say," she began, and while he had expected her voice to be loud, possibly accusing, instead it was calm, and quiet.

She was nervous, he could see that. And it was causing his own palms to sweat lightly.

"You usually have no problem with speaking your mind, Miss Granger, what could possibly—"

"It's harder than you might think to come right out and tell one of your professors that you fancy him," she said in a rush. Her cheeks were red, her eyes wide, her breath unsteady.

At first, Severus thought that he had, undoubtedly, misheard her. He opened his mouth to reply even though he didn't know what to say.

His attempt at reaching for words proved useless however for the witch rushed on. "I can't deny what I feel anymore. And I don't want to deny it. I'm…attracted to you. To everything about you. And I never thought I—" she blushed furiously and bit back her words. "I'm not sure when it began. But I know what I feel."

She was gazing at him, apparently waiting for him to say something. His hands were now very sweaty, but he willed himself not to reveal his discomfort in any noticeable way.

"Have you gone completely mad?" His voice came out angry, but he kept his expression impassive.

She flinched, as if he had physically wounded her. He thought she was going to start crying, but then he saw her tilt her head up as she mustered some of her Gryffindor courage. "No. I have not gone mad."

"Have you been Confunded?" he forced out the question and saw her cringe. The disdain that leaked out into his words came from deep inside him, for he knew she wasn't Confunded, but could not bring himself to another realistic explanation.

"No, I am not Confunded. I have felt this way for months now."

They stood glaring at each other. Finally, his voice low and ominous, Severus dared to ask, "Why, in all this world, would you possibly be attracted to me? As a friend, even? I have never understood your choice in my company and I still do not. I am old enough to be your father, I am not a nice person, and I am…cold."

She gaped at him. "You're really asking that to _me_? Me, a witch who was more mature than half of the student body at age twelve? Me, probably the smartest witch in this school, and being able to state that as a fact, not just as a narcissistic brag? Me, the one who helped Harry-fucking-Potter survive for seven years? Me, who was _happy_ to save you? You are really—truly—asking me that question?"

Severus felt as if the words he had planned to say, knew he should say, had caught in his throat, barred in a cage of understanding; this wasn't just some student who wanted to be reckless and rebellious and stupid. When was that ever Hermione Granger? Everything she did, _everything_ , was planned and scrutinized by her crazy, wonderful, truly unique mind. Severus would know. He had been very much like her when he was younger; striving harder than anyone else around him to be at the top of the class, to learn every area of magic he could, to smother himself in it as a fat middle finger to his father and anyone who ever doubted him.

Maybe he had been as ambitious as she had, but he had been abused, disliked, bullied, and driven to bitterness, revenge, and the need to belong. She, he knew, had been loved, cherished, had a strong core group of friends, albeit they were not nearly as intelligent, and she had achieved so much more than he ever had. She had not fallen prey to the darkness and peer pressure and temptation. She had not failed to protect her best friend. She had not doomed herself to a life of loneliness due to her past mistakes.

No. They were not alike.

His words finally broke free. "I cannot do this with you."

"Do what? We're just talking."

"No. I just. Can't." And even though it was his sitting room, even though it would have been more appropriately Snape-like to banish her from his sight, he strode past her and left without uttering a single word. He wasn't even sure he was breathing.

For so long, _so fucking long,_ he had composed himself, hadn't let even the two most powerful wizards of this day and age find a way to get under his skin. Now they were both gone, and yet he didn't feel free from the masks he had hidden behind the past eighteen years. He had come to believe that he may never know who he truly was without the influence of bitterness and revenge; without the need to lie and deceive and pretend to be someone he was not.

Did Severus Snape even exist? Or was he just a creation of someone else…a puppet now without a puppet master?

 _No. Yes?_

And yet earlier that day she had stood so close to him, willingly. She had touched his hand and told him in the gentlest of ways that he was wrong about who she was. She had looked at him in a way no one, not even Lily, ever had. It was as if she cared about him. And not only that, but as if she _accepted_ him. And then she had gained enough courage to come to him and bare her feelings to him. And he had left her. Because he just knew that he couldn't. Couldn't let her look at him that way. He did not deserve that look. He couldn't let her feel something she shouldn't feel.

So, he left.

 _So what_ , he thought bitterly, _does that mean for Severus Snape?_

-HG-

She went to her classes. She studied harder than ever for her NEWTs. She was not going to let his rejection keep her from getting the grades she wanted on the most important exams in her life. She would not do that to herself. She did not, however, continue her private lessons with him. She would not have been able to bear it. It was hard enough for her every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, to sit in his potion lessons without feeling like she was going to throw up.

He, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. Although, he did not look her in the eyes and treated her just as he treated every other student. At first, she was shocked and hurt that it seemed so easy for him to be…okay. But then, she realized, that was what he had done for the past 20 or so years, maybe longer. Keeping a cool and steady head through turmoil. Or, perhaps, he truly was not affected by what had happened. It infuriated her. Not to know how he felt, what he was thinking, if he even _cared_.

Ginny noticed. She asked Hermione why she didn't raise her hand in class anymore, and why she wasn't attending private lessons, and why Snape was suddenly giving her the cold shoulder. To every inquiry, Hermione had to grind her teeth and make up a lie: she didn't have any questions about the content; she didn't need anymore private lessons and was instead devoting the time to studying for her exams; he wasn't giving her the cold shoulder, he was simply treating her as he did everyone else.

"Yeah, but _why_ is he treating you like every other student?" Ginny persisted as they walked to the Great Hall together. "Before he would at least look at you when you entered the class, like he _saw_ you, you know? Now it's just—"

Hermione broke. "Drop it, Ginny," she snapped.

Ginny halted abruptly, and Hermione faltered, feeling her face flush and her heart begin to pound. _Here it comes…_ she thought to herself, closing her eyes and bracing for Ginny's question.

"Hermione?" Ginny came up beside her, peering at her intently. "Did you have a…a _row_ … with Professor Snape?"

Hermione grimaced. "I really, _really_ , don't want to talk about this, Ginny." She turned and forced herself to look into the red-head's worried eyes. "Please. Just. Not now. Not until…after we leave." When Ginny didn't answer, Hermione began walking again, resolutely not turning to look back to see if her friend was following.

-SS-

He must be cursed. He had loved Lily, who had never expressed love for him more than in a strictly platonic way, mainly because of the company he kept and his fascination with the Dark Arts, and then she had only seen him as a Death Eater after they had left Hogwarts. And now, when he had thought he wouldn't—couldn't—feel strongly for anyone ever again, he did…but it was for a student who was twenty years younger than himself. Not only would a relationship between them cause a stir within the wizarding community (not that he cared what others thought, but surely she would, eventually, even if she had convinced herself now that she did not care) but she had not even been out in the world yet. Running for her life for a year did not count as experiencing what life had to offer after school. She needed to taste the world. She needed to realize that there were many men much more suitable for her—men who deserved her.

At first, when she had admitted to fancying him, he had felt as if he had slipped into one of his dreams. But in what only took a single breath, he realized that it was too good to be true. And so, he did the most honorable thing he could do. He dismissed himself from her. He would not allow her to continue to delude herself, no matter how intelligent she may be, he knew that she would find greater happiness once she stepped into the real world. He could not, would not, allow her to bind herself to him when she had not truly lived. She deserved to feel free. She deserved to experience the world in ways he never had the chance to. He would not encourage any other future for the young witch, no matter his own feelings for her.

And this was how he knew he was doomed.

He cared for her so deeply that he was, perhaps, pushing away his own chance of tasting happiness…all because he knew she deserved better.

He was doomed. And he knew the question that followed this epiphany.

Did he love her?

-HG-

Hermione's exams, despite the nausea during the hours allotted to take them, went well. She felt that it was the best she could have done, which was more than she had felt about her OWLs. She felt confident that she had received Os on every exam, even her Defence exam, and especially her Potions and Charms. She managed her corporeal Patronus during the practical portion of her Defence exam, focusing on how she would be seeing her parents in just a month and knowing they would be able to look at her and understand who she was.

The eve of her graduation there was to be a ball held for the students. Professor McGonagall had announced this a week before graduation to everyone's befuddlement, explaining that graduation balls had been a tradition in the past, and declared she would very much like to see the tradition brought back to Hogwarts.

Ginny, of course, was delighted, as Harry had already confirmed he would be able to attend the graduation ceremony, which meant he would be able to attend the ball as well. Luna was more reserved, but when Neville said he very much looked forward to dancing with her, she seemed to visibly brighten. Ginny teasingly asked Neville if he had gotten better at dancing since his fourth year, to which he assured everyone in earshot that yes, he very well had gotten better at dancing. Everyone laughed, except for Hermione, who was too lost in her own thoughts and feeling of dread.

Would _he_ be there? She couldn't help but wonder over and over again every day leading up to the graduation ceremony. The only thing that pulled Hermione from her nervousness was the results of her NEWTs the day before graduation.

All Os. In every subject. Professor Flitwick had even written her a note saying that she was the highest scoring NEWT student in his Charms class over the last decade. She couldn't wait to tell her parents. She knew they would be so, so proud. And she was proud of herself, too.

Ginny, Luna and Hermione had gone into Hogsmeade together to try on and buy dresses for the ball. Ginny and Luna had both received Os and Es on their exams and as a reward, Molly said that she would buy all three of their dresses. Hermione did her best to act happy and excited about the dance, but she was dreading having to be in the same room with Professor Snape for that long, without a lesson to preoccupy her thoughts.

The day of graduation, eight o'clock came sooner than she was prepared for. After barely touching her dinner, she had gone up to her private room to shower, work on her hair, put on her dress, and a little bit of makeup. She forced her quaking legs to walk down to the Great Hall, which she knew had since been transformed into a ball room as it had been during her fourth year.

Outside the large doors, a crowd of bodies were gathered, mainly students, but a few teachers could be seen as well, ushering and trying to keep the calm in a cluster of excitement. She focused on finding Ginny but found Luna and Neville first. She strode over to them quickly, ignoring everyone else around her, not wanting to linger on anyone else long enough to possibly see…him. Luna was wearing the royal blue dress with deep silver frills here and there she had found in Hogsmeade. She had abandoned her radish earrings for large crescent moons. Neville was in the usual wizard dress robes.

"You look great, Hermione," Neville complimented.

"Thanks, Neville, so do you two," she replied, automatically. "Have you seen Ginny?"

"I think she went to meet Harry at the entrance hall," Neville said.

"Oooh, there she is now," Luna breathed, her eyes moving over Hermione's shoulder.

They all looked and saw Ginny, wearing the beautiful royal purple dress she had bought in Hogsmeade. At first, Hermione wondered if the purple would clash with her red hair, but the two colors surprisingly complimented each other amazingly well. She had her arm hooked around Harry's, who was wearing the same dress robes he had worn to Fleur's wedding.

The next hour or so passed in a haze to Hermione. She, Ginny, Harry, Neville and Luna all stayed with each other and danced in a group to the up-beat music. But when the first slow song began, and Ginny broke off with Harry, giving Hermione a small, sympathetic smile, and Luna broke off with Neville, who had persuaded her to dance even though she didn't care much for slow dancing, Hermione left the dancefloor, doing her best to ignore her churning stomach.

Hermione weaved in and out of the couples and was pleased to see she was not the only one without a dance partner. She found a chair, sat down, and checked her watch. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet. She found herself wondering if her friends would think it strange if she left, although she knew the ball wasn't to end until midnight. It was as this thought crossed her mind that she noticed a dark shape moving on the other side of the room.

Professor Snape.

She sucked in a deep breath and held it, her chest tightening painfully.

He seemed to be patrolling the outer edges of the dance floor, no doubt watching for any inappropriate behavior, and Professors Sprout and Professor Flitwick were doing the same on her side of the room. She watched as he came to a sudden halt and stood with his hands behind his back, staring out onto the dancefloor, looking as menacing as always. But she didn't feel fear as she stared at his figure, she only felt sadness and longing.

As if her legs were suddenly in control of the rest of her body, she stood and began to walk across the dancefloor, through the slow swaying of many dancing couples, and straight towards her professor. She was about ten strides away before he turned his head, saw her, and stiffened.

-SS-

 _Fucking… for the love of all things magic, please kill me now._

Miss Granger was headed straight for him, and she was nearly upon him. If not for her appearance, maybe he could have willed his legs to move, but it was of no use. He was glued to the floor by her stunning beauty.

She wore a silk black dress that clung to every inch of her body in ways he had never seen before, let alone dared to imagine. She had the curves of a woman, there was no doubt. Thin straps held up her dress and pulled together at the top of her back. Her cleavage was just barely exposed, but it was enough for his chest to constrict painfully with hot desire. A long slit on her right side revealed the naked skin of her leg. The black heeled shoes she wore caused her to appear taller, her legs seeming even longer and more tempting than usual. His eyes found her lips and he was overcome with the desire to feel them pressed firmly to his own. He wanted to claim her, then and there.

She stopped inches from him and tilted her chin so that she was staring into his eyes. Her smoky topaz seemed darker than normal, surrounded by deep black eye makeup—giving them a deep, burning shine that reached down to his groin. He was utterly entranced and could scarcely breathe.

She stood, staring at him, for what felt like an eternity. She didn't speak, didn't smile, didn't reach for him. She just stood and stared right into his eyes, holding him in what was surely a trance.

He felt his breath whoosh out of him as she spun on her heels and walked, purposefully, towards the main doors. Her dress was backless and caused his eyes to travel down to her hips, which were swaying with every step, accentuating her backside so that his mouth felt moister than usual. For once her hair did not bounce all around her, for it had been magicked up into a braided bun, and her bare neck was completely exposed to him. How was every male in the room not completely entranced by her? He continued to drink her in from the back until she had disappeared out the doors.

A second passed, then another, until he found himself striding after her, not caring who saw, not caring which students he bumped into as he crossed the dance floor, not caring what would happen once he caught up to her. All he cared about was reaching her. That he must do.

-HG-

She bit down hard on the inside of her lip, willing herself to focus on the physical pain it brought and not the emotional turmoil she was experiencing. It had been agonizing to force herself to stand so close without speaking to him…without reaching out and touching him.

She practically ran down to the kitchens, despite being in heels. Her determination to get to the kitchen before her resolve broke drove her faster than she thought she would have been able to run. She tickled the pear, pushed through the door, and let it slam behind her. The House Elves all startled, but she didn't pay them any notice. She went straight to the fireplace, threw in some floo powder and nearly cried out her destination.

-SS-

He knew where she was headed as soon as she turned down the corridor that lead to the kitchens. Instead of following her route, for he didn't need to, he strode down to the dungeons and into his private lab. He heard the unmistakable sound of someone flooing into his fireplace.

As he raised his wand to bring down the wards to his sitting room, he heard the piano.

His hand froze, and he held his breath, not daring to believe that she was waiting for him on the other side of the door, playing for him as she had done so many nights before, as if nothing had transpired between them.

He recognized the song, but not because she had played it before. He knew it from the CD she had given him. It was the only song she had not played for him herself, but he could not remember the title.

As quietly as possible, he opened the door and stepped into his sitting room.

There she was, in her formal gown, head bent towards the piano, eyes closed, fingers waltzing over the keys with expertise. Noiselessly he crossed to his desk and sat down. He did not want to sit in his armchair, for it was too far from her, and he did not dare distract her by summoning it and sitting near her.

The song was slow and peaceful, with a hint of melancholy that accompanied so many of her interpretations of the Italian's songs. Halfway into the piece he watched as she played the more uplifting notes. They were louder, but still sad, still slow. The song faded and then she began to play one of the first songs she had played for him… _Dietro L'incanto_. It's abrupt, dark beginning jolted him slightly, but as it quickly dropped into lighter, pleasanter notes, he began to relax again.

But sooner than he was ready for, the song ended.

Severus had been watching her, but as she straightened and began to turn towards him, he felt he could not bear to meet her eyes again. If he did…he might come undone.

He looked down at his hands, folded on top of the desk. He listened as she rose from the bench, walked slowly toward him, and then stopped at the edge of his desk. His heart was hammering in his chest. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

Then, she spoke.

"I love you."

He could not breathe.

"And it's okay if you don't feel the same way for me. It's also okay if you won't _let_ yourself feel the same way. I understand. I have faced rejection before, as you know."

There was a pause. Severus still did not meet the witch's eyes. He was employing all his willpower not to clench his finger together tightly. He heard the words she spoke as if they were ricocheting off the dungeon walls, though she spoke as lightly as the notes from the songs she played. He still did not draw a breath.

"I won't be joining the Ministry this summer," she was saying. "I plan to travel. There are…things I need to do, people I need to see, and many thoughts I need to organize. I think—I hope—it will be good for me. So, I came to tell you goodbye, and to thank you. You've changed my life…more than you could ever possibly know."

When he still did not respond after her words had faded, the frizzy-haired witch, suddenly so much more grown-up than he had ever known her to be, leaned down towards him and placed a warm, gentle kiss lightly on his cheek, brushing against corner of his mouth. Then, as if she were a ghost, she silently left the room, and with her took every ounce of strength Severus had left in him.

It was if she had walked into another dimension of reality altogether, leaving him desolate and utterly alone. The spot on his cheek and the corner of his mouth where her lips had met his skin burned almost painfully. He sunk to the floor and slammed his fists into the cold stone, but the pain did no good, it could not pull the knife from his heart. He had just enough sense to wandlessly cast a silencing charm around the room, and then he screamed. He screamed as he had never screamed before, because he had been broken as he never had been broken. Yes, Lily had taken a part of her soul with him when she had died. Yes, he had cried while cradling her lifeless form in his arms. Yes, he had wished it had been him, and not her.

But that was because he knew he could not ever bring Lily back.

This scream, this breaking, this dying inside, came from the knowledge that had let what was possibly his last hope of ever experiencing happiness walk right out of his life… She was not dead, she was entirely alive, so alive, and yet could not be his—should not be his. She was too good for him. So he had let her leave.

After a few agonizing minutes had passed, he forced himself to get to his feet. Slowly, legs and hands shaking, throat burning, he walked over to the grand piano. There was a small, folded piece of parchment lying on the ivory keys. As he reached for it, he found himself wondering if the seat was still warm where she had been sitting only mere moments before. He picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. On it was one word written in her scrawl.

" _Lontano_."

He folded the paper and slipped it into his coat's pocket.

 _Far_.

Severus had never before considered himself to be a coward. Many people had, during the war, especially when he had fled the castle while fighting Minerva. But he knew, _he knew_ , that he had never, not once, been a coward.

Until now.

A/N: One chapter left... then on to PART TWO!


	24. Chapter 24 - Le Lettere (Letters)

Chapter 24

Le Lettere

(Letters)

 _Miss Granger,_

 _I am unsure as to where I should begin. I would like to be able to say that I know when and where and why all of this began, but I must confess I do not possess the answers. I cannot seem to appease even myself, hard as I try, when forming theories of my own. It could be, perhaps, that it began the moment your hand brushed against mine in the library. It may have begun when yours was the last face I saw as I fell into insentience. Although, my admiration of you began long before either of those moments. I hope I was able to convey the respect I have for you as we spent time together during the school year, despite the last few months. It is difficult for me to write this to you. While I do not know when my feelings began, I am unable to deny them, and I no longer wish to do so. I do not regret my decision to turn you away when you came to me this past April. I do, however, regret not professing to you my feelings on the eve of your graduation. Your words petrified me. I confess that I did not know how to react or respond. It was as if my world had been spun on its axis, and you its rotator. The truth, in its most basic form, is that I feel strongly for you. I desire you, in ways I have not ever desired someone before now. And, again in nothing but the truth, I was unprepared for you; for your openness, for your trust, for your warmth, for your everything. I am still unprepared._

 _And I do not know if I will ever allow this letter to reach your fingertips._

 _S. S._

 _Professor Snape,_

 _It was not easy for me to leave without you, yet here I am, in Australia. It only took me two days to pack my things from Grimmauld Place and, though both Harry and Ginny wanted me to stay for a few more days, I couldn't bring myself to linger. I have not found my parents yet, but I know it should only be a matter of time. The wizarding community is small here, but I've already met and spoken with a few wizards and witches who are willing to help me locate my parents. Forgive me for I am rambling. What I really wanted to tell you is that… I can't stop dreaming about you. I can't stop wishing you were here with me. I can't stop replaying our last moment together in my mind and regretting… I should have tried harder to make you understand that you don't need to be a knight in shining armor, or a light-hearted individual, or even a pleasant person, to receive and accept love…because I have fallen in love with you, and it's for none of those reasons. And I want you to understand why I love you, but it's not something I feel I can put into a letter. While I may be a Gryffindor, I still experience cowardice, so I do not know if I'm going to send this to you…because I am afraid you will dismiss it._

 _With love,_

 _Hermione_

 _Minerva,_

 _I will not be at my home in Spinner's End for the duration of the summer break. If an emergency arises and you must contact me, please send all owls to Shewa, Ethiopia. Any owls are sure to find me. Rest assured that, if you will have me, I will continue my post as Potions Master this coming school year._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _S. S._

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm sorry, but…Snape? I just don't get it. He was a complete and utter arse to all of us, especially Harry. How could you fancy someone like him? I mean, I get all the stuff he had been doing for Dumbledore and that he covertly helped us to rid the world of Voldemort, but that still doesn't make up for the way he treated us. He tried to get Harry expelled multiple times. He called you and Neville awful names. Don't you remember all of that? I'm sorry, but just because he's a war hero doesn't cancel out the fact that he's vile. And I know what you're going to say. That he isn't vile anymore, but he still isn't nice. He may have treated you alright during our last year, but he still treated everyone else like they weren't worth his time. That isn't a nice person, Hermione. Just, please, don't let yourself fall for someone who won't treat you the way you deserve to be treated._

 _Love,_

 _Ginny W._

 _Ginny,_

 _I understand your confusion, I really do. But please, just think about this and really let it sink in… when have I ever expressed to you that I need someone who is always nice, or even mostly nice? I haven't. Not even Ron was nice to me. He cared about me, of course, but we fought so much, too much, just ask Harry. Also… I think a lot of us forget, or choose not to accept, that it is possible to be an unpleasant person and also a hero. Severus can be unkind, but he can be caring, considerate, and loving. I have seen it, even if you haven't. I am probably one of the rare few who have seen it. And he's changing, Ginny. I saw it practically every day during our last year at school. Even you yourself admitted he seemed slightly different. I think he's finally starting to grow into himself after so long of having to be pretending to be someone, and after feeling bitter and resentful for so long, I think he's finally learning to let go… and it makes me so, so happy to see. Happier than I can remember being for a long time. I can't explain all the reasons I love him, Ginny, but I do. I really, truly do._

 _With love,_

 _Hermione J. Granger_

 _P.S. Try not to worry about me. I know that your big try-out is fast approaching, so practice and do your best to focus on that. Good luck, and I know you'll do great!_

 _Professor McGonagall,_

 _I hope your summer is proving to be relaxing and enjoyable. I'm currently traveling. I've been in Australia for about a month now and I'm so happy to tell you that I located my parents and, with the potion Professor Snape and I created this past March, have successfully restored their memories. Seeing them again, with their memories intact, was one of the happiest moments I can ever remember experiencing. I plan on staying the rest of the summer with my parents in Australia while they finalize the selling of their home here and I will help them with their transition to buying a home in England, since they prefer it there. After helping them return to their old life, I plan to visit Japan. For now, you can just send your letters to Cairns, Queensland, Australia. I'm certain your owl will find me as there are few wizards and witches in the area. I plan to travel for a little over a year. I'm not sure what I will do once I return to England, but I am no longer set on joining the Ministry as I had been when we last spoke. I will, of course, keep you updated._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Hermione J. Granger_

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I am overjoyed to learn that you have found and restored your parents. I'm sure they were so very glad to see you, and I know you must be happy to have them back in your life. I hope your travels go well and that you stay safe. Do you have any companions journeying with you? Though times are peaceful now, it is always wise to have an extra set of wands and minds about you. I do insist that you visit the acclaimed wizarding school in Japan, Mahoutokoro, located as I'm sure you know on Minami Iwo Jima. I must admit to being surprised at your change of heart towards the Ministry. I do not want to make any unprecedented assumptions, nor do I wish to pry, but I hope that you can confide and trust in me as you would a friend. With that in mind, I understand that you and Professor Snape spent a great deal of time together in your last year. I can only hope that he did not at all dissuade you from pursuing an honorable career with the Ministry. I know that you both came to an understanding of one another's personalities but do remember that he can be abrasive at times and has never thought a position with the Ministry to be worth pursuing. With that being said, I do sincerely hope your travels go well and allow you a chance to explore, discover, and enjoy._

 _Respectfully yours,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _P.S. Please feel free to refer to me as Minerva. As I am no longer your professor, we shall now be seen as equals._

 _Harry,_

 _My time in Australia has been going well. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write to you, but I've been very busy, and, what's more, I haven't felt like corresponding with many people at the present time. I'm happy to say that I found my parents only two weeks into my journey and that their memories have successfully been restored, thanks to the potion that Professor Snape helped me to brew. I am so happy to be back together with them, as their daughter. I'm staying here until we get their home sold and their new home in London settled. Then I will continue my travels. So far, I know my next destination to be Japan, and then most likely Russia. I hope you're doing well, and I hope everything is going well with you and Ginny. I imagine she's very happy to be out of school. What do you think of her trying out for the Holyhead Harpies? I really hope she gets to play on the team. I know I've never been as animated about Quidditch as you or Ginny, but I sincerely hope she gets in. If she makes the team, which I'm sure she will, I'd love to go to one of her games to support her once I'm back from my travels. Please write back when you can. I know you're busy, but you are an important friend in my life and I'd hate to lose touch while I'm away._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

 _P.S. If you aren't using it, could I please borrow the Marauder's Map?_

 _Minerva,_

 _I have returned from my travels and will see you at Hogwarts on August 30th for the start of term._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _S. S._

 _Dear Minerva,_

 _I would be honored to call you my friend. While I am not traveling with company, I prefer it that way. I appreciate your concern and advice, but I feel confident in my abilities to defend myself and get around in a new country. I traveled quite often with my parents and have learned safety measures and proper etiquette while traveling in foreign countries. Besides, being on my own allows me to think easier, and not have to worry about anyone but myself. It's relieving. I have visited the Mahoutokoro school of Witchcraft & Wizardry and it is very impressive, despite its size and number of students. Japan is beautifully exotic, and the history is quite amazing. I have a week left in Japan and then I plan to visit Russia. Viktor Krum has already confirmed that he will accompany me to the Durmstrang Institute. I have also recently decided to visit the wizarding schools in America, Brazil, Africa, and France. My parents have requested that I not be away for much longer than a year, so I plan to return to England next August, if my travels go as planned. I want to extend my thanks at your concern for my career plans, however I must confess that, while Professor Snape has influenced my decision not to join the Ministry, it is not at all because of his dislike for it. Truthfully, we never spoke of my career endeavors, and he never suggested what course I should take. While he did influence my decision, he is entirely unaware of his impact. Speaking of the professor, has he returned to teach this year? He never spoke of his future endeavors, either. As I won't be in Japan for much longer, please just send your owl addressed to me and I'm sure it will find me eventually._

 _Your friend,_

 _Hermione J. Granger_

 _Hagrid,_

 _I want to apologize for not spending more time with you this year. I know it must've felt as different for you as it did for me, without Harry and Ron and I causing trouble and coming to your doorstep to visit nearly every month. I can only hope that your Head of House duties proved enough of a distraction as to not feel too lonely. I, myself, had plenty of distraction, with my private lessons with Professor Snape, and then studying for my NEWTs. Thank you for your hug on Graduation day, it really lifted my spirits. I wanted to let you know that I'm doing as well as I can be. I found my parents, restored their memories, and we spent about three months together before I headed for Japan. They are back in London now, and I am in Russia. I visited the Durmstrang Institute with Viktor Krum yesterday and it was quite cold. The school is not nearly as welcoming as Hogwarts, but no one dared treat me with derision since I was accompanied by Viktor for the duration of my visit. I know you never liked him much, and that you don't think well of Durmstrang, either, but I think slight changes have been made since Karkaroff left. I enjoyed the experience, nonetheless. Viktor plans to take me to his home town tomorrow. Then I will go on to visit America, which I'm very excited for. Although it may take your owl a while to find me while I travel, I'd love to hear back from you whenever you have time to write me. And when I come back to England, I definitely plan to come and visit you. I do miss you, Hagrid. I just need to be on my own, away from Hogwarts, for a while to…figure some things out._

 _Your friend,_

 _Hermione_

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well since last we spoke. I find myself very excited for your future travels! When you visit America, be sure to visit Ilvermorny, which I hear is very similar to Hogwarts. I also suggest you meet with the Deputy Headmistress, Jackie Kowalski, a very accomplished Legilimens and relative of Tina Scammander, wife of the famous Magizoologist, Newt Scammander. I am pleased to hear Professor Snape's distaste for the Ministry was not the reason behind your decision to question your career endeavors. He has continued his teaching post of Potions Master, but I must ask you, in complete confidence, of course, if you would happen to know of any reason why he may be unlike himself? I know you and he spent a great deal of time together last year in your private lessons, and while he is a private man, I can't help but ask if you may know anything, as I am growing increasingly worried as each month passes. He won't join us at regular meal times and insists that he is too focused on his experimental potions to be troubled with trivial gatherings. While he is no stricter than he was last year with his students, he seems closed off and distant—more so than usual. He won't banter with me about Quidditch as he always used to, and he has yet to attend a match. I have never seen him this way before, not even while he served as a spy for both Dumbledore and Voldemort. I do not wish to trouble you with this my dear, but if you can tell me anything as to why he may be behaving this way, please, let me know as soon as you can. And I do hope your visit to America is both invigorating and educational._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _Hermione,_

 _I hope your travels have been going well! Where have you visited so far and where are you now? Things are going great here. Best of all, Ginny made the try-outs! She begins her first season this coming October. She's excited, but nervous too, and I think she's still shocked she made it in. I'm very proud of her. Things are going great between us, and she's living with me now at Grimmauld Place, but we're talking about finding somewhere new. We'd like to keep Grimmauld Place in the family, but we're both determined to find a new space to call ours that is separate from the past. I hope that makes sense. You and Snape brewed a potion together to give your parents their memories back? Wow Hermione that's…impressive in more ways than one. Firstly, getting Snape to help you find a cure is surprising to me, and secondly, being able to find a cure? That's a new potion, Hermione! You could help so many people…like Lockhart! Not that we need him back in our lives or anything, but I'm sure there's a ton of others your potion could help! You did tell Snape to give you some credit if he starts selling it, right? I don't mean to sound like Ron, but you know what he'd say, you could make some good galleons off a potion like that. Anyway, I've enclosed the map with this letter. I hope you don't mind me asking, but I am curious, why would you need the map while you're on vacation? Hope to hear from you soon._

 _Your friend,_

 _Harry_

 _Luna,_

 _I hope you've been well. What have you been doing these past months? I know you may find it surprising that I'm writing to you, but I need your advice, and I feel you're one of the few I can talk to about my predicament. It's hard to explain, but I'm going to do my best. Firstly, I should tell you that I've been traveling. I've been to Australia, where I reconnected with my parents, and then I traveled to Japan and Russia. I'm currently in America now. I wanted to travel because I thought I'd be able to find peace of mind and be able to decide what to do about the recent turmoil I've been experiencing since April of last year. To put it bluntly, I've fallen in love with someone and, when I confessed my feelings to them, they did not reciprocate, but I was nearly positive that they would. I now feel that they are holding themselves back, but I don't know why or how to proceed. And, despite their turning away from me, I still love them. Traveling has only seemed to intensify my longing to be with this person. And I don't know what I should do, or who I should turn to. I'm not sure if you'll be able to help, but if you have any advice you could spare, I could really need it._

 _Your friend,_

 _Hermione_

 _Harry,_

 _I'm so excited for Ginny! Excited for you both! Living together is a big step to take. I hope Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are handling it alright, without any children at home. Do you plan on proposing to Ginny any time soon? And, don't worry, I understand what you mean about Grimmauld Place. About the map… it's a complicated answer. I should probably start from the beginning. And while I know this is going to come as a shock to you, I need you to just read to the end of this letter without fainting or flying off the handle of your broomstick. During my last year at Hogwarts I… developed what could be called a… a friendship… with Professor Snape. He's changed, Harry, he truly has. Even Ginny and Neville and Luna have all admitted that he is different than before the war. He's confided in me about some of his past, and I believe that he is not a cruel man, nor an unkind one, but one who is struggling to find himself after having been a pawn for so long. He gave his everything in the hope that Voldemort would be defeated…and while I know he treated us and many others horribly during our time at school, he always had reasons for it. I'm not excusing him from his flaws, but instead saying that maybe his faults aren't as great as we were all lead to believe. And, after spending so much time with him, I've realized that, not only do he and I have a lot in common, but I care for him in ways I haven't ever cared for anyone else. I told him my feelings last April, but he… he didn't accept them. I feel as if he was holding back his true feelings, and I don't know why, and I wish I knew what to do because I am still in love with him. That is why I needed the map. So I could, in a way, see him… Please, do not try to convince me that my feelings are wrong. I've had over a year to try and figure them out, and I know what I feel is true and not a fleeting or unreasonable feeling. Even if you do not understand, please do not break ties with me because of it._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

 _Hermione,_

 _I know I'm not a smart man, Hermione, but we've been friends for a while now and I can tell when there is something troubling you. I do hope you've been enjoying your travels, but I also hope that you return soon. I want to help you with whatever is bothering you, no matter what it is._

 _Your friend,_

 _R. Hagrid_

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm not at all surprised at your request, for Ginny often asks me for advice. As for your situation, it also does not come as a surprise to me. I don't know of many students who would willingly spend most of their school year under the tutelage of Professor Snape. And I have also never known him to openly express concern about a student. While I know he is and has been changing since the war and his recovery, I also know that he has developed a closeness to you that he needs but may not be ready for. If he is the one you love, and if he did not confess to you that he loves you, too, I would not abandon him. From what Ginny has told me from his past, it seems as if he has felt alone for a very long time. Be gentle, but firm, treat him as if he were a baby thestral… or, perhaps, a juvenile thestral. In which I mean, do not become flustered by his rough exterior and show him kindness and patience more than anything else. If he truly feels the same way for you as you do for him, he will, eventually, give in to his inner self. And if he doesn't feel the same way you feel for him, there will be time for you to heal._

 _Here for you,_

 _Luna Lg_

 _P.S. I've sent you a Dirigible plum necklace. I made it myself. It promotes cheerfulness in the wearer._

 _Mrs. Weasley,_

 _Thank you so much for your owl. I appreciate your inquiry as to how I am doing. I'm currently in Brazil and plan to travel to Africa in little over a week's time. I do hope that your letter was not sent under the impression that I am in danger. I feel that Hagrid may have exaggerated, if he expressed to you that he was concerned for me. However, I do suppose I could ask for your advice…and though this question may confuse you, it is one that I do not feel comfortable asking many. How do you tell someone you love them when they don't want to hear it…or are, possibly, too afraid to hear it?_

 _With love,_

 _Hermione J. Granger_

 _Neville,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. Have you been enjoying your apprenticeship with Professor Sprout? As you know, I've been traveling, and am currently in Brazil. It's gorgeous here, and very different from back home. While I do truly care about how you've been doing, I'm actually writing to you to ask you a question. It may seem random to you, but it is important to me, and I would greatly appreciate your honest answer. You've been a good friend and I trust your judgement and opinions. The question is this: how would you feel if a friend of yours confessed to you that she was in love with a much older wizard?_

 _Your friend,_

 _Hermione_

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write you back, but it's been so busy for me with the Holyhead Harpies and training for our first season and, oh Hermione, living with Harry has been so great, but sometimes we tend to forget about everyone else but ourselves and our work. I know that's a sorry excuse for not writing sooner, but life after school has been much busier than I had anticipated. Also, I want to apologize for the last letter I sent. I know it was unfeeling and that I was a bit harsh, I just… I was so shocked. I mean, honestly? I never figured you'd love—let alone like—someone like Snape. He's so dark and you're just…not. But, I would never not trust your judgement. You saved Harry and Ron's life on multiple occasions, and you've always supported Harry, but most importantly, you've always been a wonderful friend to me, and it'd be awful of me to not give you the same kind of support. If you're sure you love him, all I can say is… it'll take some time for me to get used to, and I hope it works out, because I don't want you to get hurt, and I really want you to be happy._

 _Love,_

 _Ginny W._

 _Hermione,_

 _I will admit that Hagrid seemed a bit concerned. We all miss and care about you deeply, Hermione, and to be traveling for so long on one's own… we can't help but worry. I am glad to hear that you are feeling well and that your travels seem to be going smoothly. Everything is going well here. The Burrow is entirely remodeled, and Arthur and I can't wait for you to see it. Ginny and Harry are living together at Grimmauld Place, so it has been a bit quieter here at home, but Arthur and I have both been quite busy with our jobs that we haven't had much time to notice. George stopped by frequently last summer, as did Harry and Ginny, when they could. Bill and Fleur visited this past Christmas and Ron and Lavender were there as well. We all missed you. Other than all that, I've been enjoying teaching at Hogwarts, but never knew how tiresome it could be. I'm not sure how Minerva has done it for so long! As for your question… I cannot answer from experience myself, since Arthur and I were practically love at first sight, but I can speak from what I have witnessed through time. If you love someone, and you're sure they don't love you back, it's best to let them go and try to move on with your life. Holding on to someone who doesn't love you the same way you do them will only cause you pain. If, however, you do not know their feelings, you should be sure to express yours clearly. Your additional question about if the particular person you love might be afraid to hear it puzzles me…but I would have to advise that you treat them with kindness and tenderness, for their may be severe trauma in their life. I hope those answers help, and I will not deny that I am very curious as to how and why the question arose in the first place, however, I will not pry, at least not through a letter. I do hope you return home soon, dear. As I said, we all miss you._

 _With love,_

 _Molly Weasley_

 _P.S. I do not know if Minerva has told you, but Filius decided to retire. He will be missed and, alas, Minerva is now hunting for a Charms professor._

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm beginning my apprenticeship under Professor Sprout this August. After Hogwarts Harry and Ron convinced me to join them at the Ministry as an Auror-in-training. I don't really care for it. I miss the greenhouses at Hogwarts, and you know me, I've never been big on hunting people down and making them obey the law. I'd rather help bring down crazy, maniacal Dark Lords, and as we seem to be short on them at the present, I've decided to stick to Herbology. It's nice to hear that you're traveling. I think after my apprenticeship, over the summer, I may take Luna to visit Norway and Sweden. It'd be a nice holiday for us, I think. As for your question… I wouldn't be too concerned about it, honestly. My own grandmother was married to a man thirteen years her senior, my grandfather, and I know I had an uncle who had about three wives, and once of them was thirty years younger than he. While that is a bit uncommon, I know that the age gap between my grandparents isn't, at least not in the wizarding world. Because we typically live longer than muggles, it's not uncommon for us to marry someone older or younger than ourselves. I did find the question odd, coming from you, but I won't pry. I'm just pleased you appreciate my judgement and opinions. Hope to see you soon, Hermione, and stay safe on the rest of your travels!_

 _Yours truly,_

 _Neville_

 _Luna,_

 _Thank you for the Dirigible plum necklace. All this time I thought they were radishes! And I don't know how you guessed that my feelings were directed towards Severus, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You have always been very intuitive where I have been logical. I greatly appreciate your advice on the matter and it has helped me come to a decision. While I'm currently in Africa and still plan to visit France, I do believe I will come back to England after that and seek the Charms professor position at Hogwarts. Possibly—hopefully—working side by side with Severus as his colleague instead of student may be more telling as to how he truly feels about me. But, as you said, if he does not love me as I love him, I will need plenty of distraction to heal, and what better distraction than teaching students ranging from eleven to eighteen years old? Thank you again, Luna, and I hope you're doing well._

 _Your friend,_

 _Hermione_

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm going to write what's most important first. I would never break ties with you because of your love for someone. Even if that someone happened to be someone I didn't get on with, and even if I did not see this coming at all. I just… wow. When you get back, we definitely need to sit down and talk. Now that you're out of school hopefully we'll have more time to spend together. You still haven't mentioned if you're going to join the Ministry when you get back. Sorry, I'm all over the place in this letter. I guess I am feeling really caught off guard. But I've seen you at your angriest, and I never want to see you that way again, so there is no way I'm going to tell you to rethink your feelings, and I'm not going to question them…yet. I'll only question them if it seems like you aren't happy. Which, brings me to this next question…what are you going to do? You said in your last letter than he didn't accept your feelings, but that it also seemed like he was holding back his own feelings. So…what are you going to do?_

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

 _P.S. I want to propose to Ginny this Christmas…and I want you to be there!_

 _Minerva,_

 _I will not be at my home in Spinner's End for the duration of the summer break. If an emergency arises and you must contact me, please send all owls to Lake Wanaka, New Zealand. Any owls are sure to find me. Rest assured that, if you will have me, I will continue my post as potions master this coming school year._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _S. S._

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm pleased that my last letter helped with your decision. I hope that, whatever you have decided, you are able to see it through. Remember, think young thestral. And do not give up hope until it is well warranted to do so._

 _Still here for you,_

 _Luna Lg_

 _Minerva,_

 _I would like to apply for the position of Charms Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Please let me know what I need to do to formally apply for the position and if I need to supply you with any references. Despite having no teaching experience, I feel confident that I would fit well in the position of Charms Professor. _

_Your friend,_

 _Hermione_

 _Minerva,_

 _I have returned from my travels and will see you at Hogwarts on August 30th for the start of term._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _S. S._

 _Severus,_

 _I touch the place on this map where I'd find your voice, your eyes, your hands, your face. My fingers, in creases of distant, dark places, long for your warm touch. Miles from where you are, I lay my face down on an unfamiliar, cold pillow, and hope I dream of you. I wish that something, somehow, picks me up and sets me down in your safe arms so that when I awake… I will be with you._

 _Hermione_

A/N: PART TWO will be included in this entry, however you will noticed that I have changed the title to "Dietro L'icanto PARTS ONE & TWO" also, Hermione's last letter to Severus was inspired by one of my favorite Snow Patrol songs, "Set Fire to the Third Bar". It'll be about a week before I post the first chapter of part two, so… hang in there!


	25. Chapter 1 - Vicino (Near)

PART TWO

Chapter 1

Vicino

(Near)

"I am pleased to announce that Miss Hermione Granger will be the new Charms Professor this term."

Both Poppy and Pomona clasped their hands together and smiled excitedly. The other professors looked pleased as well. Molly was smiling, but did not seem surprised, most likely she had already known. Hagrid, of course, was leaking out buckets of water from his eyes; the big, happy oaf.

Severus frowned. On the inside, though, his stomach was performing frantic summersaults. "Hermione Granger? But… she's so… young." He couldn't stop the words from slipping out of this scowling mouth.

The headmistress' eyebrows shot up and all other staff turned to look at him with curious expressions on their faces. It was rare for him to speak during the staff meetings held just before term began, and even rarer for him to show any protest openly. When he had protested Albus about Remus it had been done in private, not for the rest of the staff to hear.

"As I recall, Severus, Albus appointed you Potions Master at the age of 21—the same age Hermione will be shortly after the start of term."

He didn't reply and, as her eyes bore into his, he forced himself to look away. He glared at the side wall of the teacher's meeting room, intent on not giving her any reason to continue pursuing reasons for his dislike of Hermione's appointment as the Charms professor.

"Miss Granger will be joining us tomorrow, as she just returned from her travels yesterday and longed to spend today with her mother and father. I have no doubt that all of you will receive her with respect and warmth."

Severus could have sworn her last sentence was directed at him. He continued to glare at the wall, his scowl deepening.

Hermione Granger was going to become the new Charms Professor at Hogwarts? He could hardly believe it to be true. Even he, who hardly paid any mind to the ambitions of his students except to scoff at them, knew that Granger had planned to help reform the Ministry. He had assumed she would join Potter and Weasley and the 'golden trio' would be back at bringing peace to the wizarding world. So why was she instead teaching at Hogwarts where she had already spent seven years of her young life?

He felt a burning in his cheeks as his mind conjured up the possibility that she was coming to teach because that's where he was…but then quickly dismissed the idiotic notion with an audible snarl, causing Septima to flinch next to him and give him a reproachful look. Even though McGonagall was still blabbering, he abruptly stood from his seat and stormed out of the room.

No one in their right mind would change their life's ambition because of him. He wasn't worth that.

He paced his sitting room, which no longer held the duplicated grand piano. His stomach had ceased churning but was now clenching painfully. The new term began in just two days and she would be arriving tomorrow. He glanced at his fireplace mantle. Her letter to him sat there, still unopened, as it had been since he received it three weeks ago. He then glanced towards his bedroom, where he knew his unsent letter to her still sat on his nightstand.

If not joining the Ministry, he would have thought she would have decided to live in Australia with her parents. But it seemed that her parents had come back to England. And she had come back as well. And she had chosen to work at Hogwarts… where he was.

Perhaps, she had been right.

Perhaps he did not know her as well as he had thought.

-HG-

Her stomach had been fluttering with nervous butterflies ever since she had apparated into Hogsmeade. Now, standing at the front gates that would lead her up to the school, her stomach had still not calmed. She stood impatiently, picking her nails and biting her lip, waiting for Filch to meet her.

Soon she caught a glimpse of a carriage, pulled by two thestrals, coming down the road that lead from the castle to the gates. She couldn't tell if the thestrals were the ones she had met nearly two years ago, but she wasn't filled with any discomfort at seeing them as she had been on her first day of her last year as a student.

The carriage came to a halt just before the gate and its door opened, but instead of Filch, out came a beaming Molly Weasley.

"Hermione!" she greeted, cheerfully. The DADA Professor waved her wand and the wards to the gate fell and with a creek the gate opened to welcome Hermione inside its protection.

The two witches embraced, and Molly immediately began to ask Hermione how she was, how her parents had been adjusting, and if she looked forward to beginning her teaching career. Luckily, Molly distracted her much better than Filch would have, and by the time they reached the castle Hermione's stomach had somewhat settled.

She didn't see Severus until after she had been shown to her rooms, which had been Flitwick's, as Trelawney, who was now the new Ravenclaw Head of House, had wanted to stay in her tower. Minerva met her in her new rooms and together they walked to the headmistress' office where they sat and spoke comfortably over a cup of warm chamomilla tea. Thankfully, the headmistress did not ask Hermione why she had not responded to her letter about Severus. She inquired how Hermione was doing, whether she needed any guidance on lesson planning, and whether she minded being on the patrol duty twice a week. Then the two witches walked to the staff meeting room, where Minerva explained the staff would always meet the day before term.

The nearer they got to their destination, the tighter Hermione's stomach cramped. _Keep calm, keep calm. You are colleagues now. No matter what he thinks of you, no matter what he does, you will not be rattled._

The Potions Master didn't even look up when they entered the room. Hagrid came forward and hugged Hermione tightly, saying how surprised he was and how happy. Sprout shook her hand with a sunny smile on her face, and the other professors followed in suit, some shaking her hands, some giving her light hugs, all of them welcoming her and congratulating her. Except one.

She had been forcing her eyes not to stray over to him, but now, as everyone else had greeted her except him, she could no longer prevent her gaze from falling onto his dark form. They met eyes, and in them she saw no emotion, but she had been expecting this. He was still as handsome as ever, though, and her heart leapt into her mouth when he gracefully rose to his feet and wordlessly approached her.

"Miss Granger," he said as he extended a stiff arm out towards her. His voice was low, carefully controlled, and she noticed he stared at her forehead, just above where her eyes would normally be.

She took his hand to shake it and replied, "Professor. It's nice to see you again." She kept her tone just as controlled as he kept his. She was able to play his game, too.

He dropped her hand, gave her a curt nod, and then proceeded back to his seat at the staff table. The other professors took their seats as well, and the only empty seat was the one next to him.

 _Of course,_ she thought to herself. _Flitwick's old seat would be the one right next to his._

The meeting was painfully slow, and Hermione only heard about half of what Minerva and the other professors were saying. Severus didn't speak, and nor did she. When the meeting concluded, he strode out of the room without a backwards glance, but she would not allow herself to feel hurt. She had known he wouldn't handle her decision to work at Hogwarts with ease. She did not expect him to throw himself at her, nor did she expect to go back to how things were in her last year of study before she confessed her feelings. She was prepared for whatever he would throw at her, even if that meant he would be rude to her, or worse, try to avoid and ignore her.

She told Minerva and Molly she was going to unpack, but on impulse she decided to take a walk down by the black lake, to find a feeling of peace and familiarity with being back at Hogwarts, and then went on to visit Flitwick's classroom—her classroom, now. By the time she had finished locating and rearranging the many things in her classroom and office, it was nearly six o'clock. Her stomach growling, she went to her private rooms and summoned a house elf to fetch her some dinner, which she ate in her sitting room. Flitwick had removed most of the things in the room, leaving only two sitting chairs, a large ornate writing desk, two bookshelves that reached the ceiling, and a faded blue and bronze couch. Her bedroom was even barer. A bed, adorned with a purple and gold bedspread which she did not care much for and gold pillows which were alright, sat in the center of the room. There was one wardrobe and one four-drawer dresser. She had a reasonably large bathroom. That was all.

While she was tempted multiple times to go and break down the wards of his private lab and maybe even perform the _Open Sesame_ spell on his sitting room door, she somehow found the strength not to give in to those feelings…they would only make her seem weak in his eyes; running to him the first day she was back in his presence. Very mature. Not.

So, she distracted herself by unpacking the essentials and then prepping for her first lesson, even though it wouldn't be until the following Monday. It was just before ten at night when she went up to visit Madam Pomfrey to get a sleeping draught. She had been taking one on the nights she felt especially ramped up or anxious. While she was in the Hospital Wing, she and the matron discussed how she had been doing health-wise and emotionally. Hermione explained that much of her anxiety had dissipated once she found and restored her parents, but that she still had problems sleeping about three times a month. Luckily, a simple sleeping draught seemed to help.

"While I am pleased to see you, Hermione, I'm quite surprised you did not ask Severus for his sleeping draughts, as I understand you two are good friends."

Hermione couldn't help but raise her eyebrows. "I'm…sorry? Whatever gave you that impression?"

Poppy suddenly seemed embarrassed. "Oh, nothing, nothing. Except that you two seemed to get on quite well during the last year of your studies. Aurora and I were quite sure you would return to be his apprentice, as Neville Longbottom returns to be Pomona's."

Hermione felt herself flush, but she kept her voice steady as she replied, "I hadn't wanted to bother him. Thank you again for the sleeping draught, Poppy. Have a good night."

Even with the sleeping draught, she slept fitfully…it was the first time in many months that a sleeping draught did not help.

The next day she didn't see Severus until the beginning of the school feast. She wasn't sure who came up with the seating arrangement at the Head Table, but her heart practically burst when she was told where her allotted seat would be.

 _I swear, if the universe isn't trying to push us together, it's certainly trying to test my resolve_ , she thought to herself as she approached the seat in between Severus and Neville, who was seated next to Sprout.

She kept her eyes trained on Neville and gave him a friendly smile, which he returned. When she came around the table and passed Severus (the whole while feeling her proximity to him as if she were on fire) Neville stood and gave her a warm hug.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you. And congratulations on becoming the Charms professor. You're going to be great."

"Thank you, Neville," she responded politely. She sat down with him and turned her body so that it was facing as far away from Severus as possible. "Congratulations on your apprenticeship. I'm happy I get to work alongside you for my first term. It's nice to have someone here who I can call a good friend." She spoke clear and a little louder than she normally would have, secretly hoping that Severus would overhear her. Not that he would react.

Once the sorting and feast concluded, Hermione followed suit as Minerva and the other professors rose from the table as the students headed to their respective dormitories. Hermione fell into step beside Neville and was about to ask him where in Hogwarts he was staying, but just then she felt another presence beside her. Turning quickly, her eyes met deep, black irises.

"Miss Granger, a word, if I may?"

His voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she did her best to ignore it. "Of course," she replied, then turning to Neville she said, "I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

Severus led her out of a side door that Babbling, Vector and Septima had just exited from while Neville caught up to Sprout and began speaking with her animatedly.

Severus did not speak to her until they were traveling down a corridor, away from any other students or staff. Her heart felt like a thousand cantering horses as she anticipated what he would say.

-SS-

He was doing his best to act indifferent to her, as he did with many of the professors, even the ones he had worked alongside for nearly twenty years. Yet her presence alone caused him to feel a shortness of breath and a weakening in the knees. Still, he had been a spy for many years. Surely, he could extract the information he desired from her without giving away his complex feelings.

"Were your travels enjoyable?" He kept his voice low, his tone steady, his strides slow and calm.

"Very much so," she responded. Her voice was steady, but he noticed that her left hand was trembling ever so slightly.

"Was the company also enjoyable?" He gently pried, glancing quickly at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean. Are you implying someone accompanied me?" She seemed genuinely taken aback.

"I had assumed."

"How presumptuous of you." Her tone hardened but did not waver. "While it may come as a surprise to you, I did not have a traveling companion. I can attest to having become as much of a loner as you are after I graduated."

He was taken aback at this, and irritated, and somewhat relieved, all at once. He stopped, and she stopped with him, moving her body to face him as he turned to her. He surveyed her carefully, his eyes raking up and down her body and lingering on her face. If she was embarrassed by his scrutinizing gaze, she did not show it. She looked like a changed witch. Her head was held high, her new teaching robes, a deep green, caused her to look a year or so older than she truly was, and she held his gaze with a confidence he had only seen from her on a few occasions.

"I'm surprised you didn't immediately snap at me for calling you a loner," she said finally, her eyes continuing to hold his gaze steadily.

"I'm extremely aware that everyone who knows of me knows I'm a loner, thank you," he said, gruffly.

"Proud of it, are you?" Her lip twitched into a small smirk.

His face hardened, but it seemed to have no effect on the cool and collected Hermione Granger. _Professor_ Hermione Granger. He was beginning to realize that, had he been able to intimidate her before, she had obtained a new sense of confidence. Whether she had matured over her travels, or perhaps it was because she was now in the position of his colleague and not his student, he could not be sure.

"So, how would you feel about us being loners together over a cup of coffee in your sitting room?" She asked before he could attempt to berate her.

He let himself sneer and began to walk again. "I think not. I was merely curious as to if your travels served you well or not."

"They did, thank you."

-HG-

They fell silent. She realized he was walking her towards her private chambers and felt a stab of disappointment that he was really going to deny her coffee in his sitting room. Mustering up her courage, she asked, "If you're so instant on being alone, why endure my presence as you did the last time I was here? Surely it wasn't pity. You've never been a man to act on pity, unless it involves snapping out a condescending remark."

She watched his mouth fall open, but no words escaped.

While before she would have been impressed at her ability to strike him mute, now it simply annoyed her. She had had enough for the day. Throwing up her hands, she sighed and closed her eyes. "Fine. It's fine. I should finish unpacking."

She turned away to walk down the corridor leading to her private rooms, but his hand closed over her wrist in a vice-like grip. She froze, sucking in a sharp breath. She wasn't afraid, but she was worried—worried about what he might say, worried that his expression would be cruel.

But when she turned to face him, her heart seemed to fail her. The tormented look on his face, and his eyes—full of anger and pain and conflicting emotions—sent the sharp sting of ice through her veins. And she realized the truth. He didn't want to be alone, he just thought it would be better for everyone if he was.

But he was wrong.

"I'm… sorry," she whispered.

He cleared his throat and released his grip. His expression became impassive once more and he cleared his throat. "I have to admit, I was a bit surprised that you applied for a teaching position."

"Why is that?"

"I had been under the impression that you'd be working for the Ministry."

She shrugged. "I had planned to. But then, during my travels, it dawned on me that I longed for something more...familiar." While not the exact truth, it was not a lie. "Most likely, I will eventually join the Ministry, but for now, I'll see how teaching suits me."

"I see… Well, goodnight, Miss Granger."

She let herself chuckle, thinking his formal discourse to be more telling than not. "We're colleagues now. Please, call me Hermione."

His eyes shot up and held hers for a moment, then moved up to the space just above her eyes. "Old habits, Miss Granger."

She felt her smile drop considerably but forced herself to shrug and put on the same impassive face he continued to employ.

She took a few steps down the corridor, then turned and said quietly, "Goodnight...Severus."

Before he could reply, and before she could register the look on his face of her using his given name for the first time, she turned away from him and walked, resolutely, down to the entrance to her private rooms. While she wanted to slap him silly and then pull him into a dark alcove and snog him senseless, this interaction would have to do for tonight. She knew that getting under his skin, making him realize she was no longer intimidated by him, would take some time. And she was not going to give up, or give in.

-SS-

What was she playing at? What was _he_ playing at? He knew he desired her. And a year ago she had desired him as well. But did she still? Was that even possible, let alone probable? Why was she here, at Hogwarts? Why had she made out like she was just as alone as he was? She was young, beautiful, intelligent, utterly bewitching. Why had she not taken up with an equally as young and handsome wizard?

 _Perhaps because she still wants you_ , said a small voice in the back of his mind. But a louder voice, full of contempt, snarled back, _No witch in their right mind would think of myself over such other tempting options available._ What was the infuriating witch playing at, damnit-all?!

He had meant to be rude to her. In a way, he longed for her to feel the pain and confusion and torment he had been feeling over the past year. But now, as he sat with his face in his hands, he realized the foolishness of his actions. Wasn't it likely that he had caused her enough pain already? He had been too cowardly to open her letter, so he did not know how she felt towards him. And he was still too cowardly to open it even now that she was here. He could just confront her, ask her if her reason for coming here had been more than wanting to teach—whether her reasons had anything to do with _him_. But to do so would to show her that she had power over him. And he was not ready to let himself admit that.

Yet his rudeness and coldness seemed to have an insignificant effect on her. She had become slightly flustered, yes, but not as much as she would have a mere year ago. It was almost as if she had prepared herself for their meeting again. How long had she been planning to teach at Hogwarts? Surely not any longer than since Flitwick had announced his retirement.

Severus leaned back, finished off his glass of single-malt whiskey and sighed deeply, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt a shudder of so many conflicting emotions rage through him—hope, fear, confusion, anger, frustration, trepidation, longing… Pulling back his lips into a loud snarl, he swung back his arm and hurled his glass against the bare wall next to his grandfather clock. It shattered splendidly, and his hands itched to cause more damage, but he refrained. Allowing himself to break down over the young witch, even this much, was going far enough. He would press through this new turn of events, even if it killed him.

A/N: Second chapter should be up in 5-6 days. I have finals coming up and need to focus on that, but I didn't want to leave you guys totally hanging so...here it is. The first chapter of PART TWO. Hope you guys enjoy it, and just wait, because some sparks are about to fly!


	26. Chapter 2 - Lo Scambio (The Exchange)

Chapter 2

Lo Scambio

(The Exchange)

-HG-

Since the first day of classes wouldn't be until Monday, the staff was informed that Saturday and Sunday would be spent supervising the students and prepping for upcoming classes.

Minerva suggested that Madam Hooch take all current Quidditch players, including those who were planning on trying out for one of the four House teams, to the new Quidditch pitch to do some basic laps and, if all went well, maybe getting out the Quidditch equipment and do some more practicing. That accounted for about seventy students, mostly third-years and up. Because this was a large group, Minerva suggested another professor who felt at ease on a broom should accompany Madam Hooch to help supervise the activities. This, of course, did not fall to Hermione who had never enjoyed flying on a broomstick. Professor Vector, or as Hermione was now encouraged to call her by her first name, Septima, joined Madam Hooch and the other professors were left to oversee activities in the Great Hall for the younger students (such as games of magical chess and Gobstones) while the older student were permitted to spend time in their common rooms, dormitories, the court yard, and the library. First-year and second-year students were not seen as being trustworthy enough to wander throughout the castle without supervision until after classes began. The first-years especially seemed thrumming with pent-up energy, and to let them have free reign would not bode well.

On Saturday, Hermione waited until she could casually overhear where Severus would be positioned for the day. She was disappointed when he requested to oversee students in the library with Madam Pince. Since there was no need for more than two professors in the library, Hermione grudgingly signed up to oversee the games in the Great Hall, where she would at least have Neville's company. She vowed to beat Severus to overseeing the library tomorrow. That way, if she couldn't be in his presence, she would settle for annoying him by choosing the position he seemingly preferred.

While she could scarcely believe it, she was almost certain that he harbored some feelings for her he was not admitting to. And it was all coming together in her mind now, although she had begun to realize why he was holding back near the end of her travels, her theories were beginning to make more sense now that she had interacted with him again. He didn't believe he deserved to be loved, or to be in love. And it made perfect sense as to why he should feel that way, but she was insistent on showing him that he did deserve love; that she understood his feelings, but that he needed to let go of them and embrace happiness.

"So, Hermione, weird that this year started on a Friday, huh?" Neville sidled up to her and knocked her lightly on the arm with his, smiling. "I wish our second day of term had started with Exploding Snap." He chuckled and looked at a pair of first-year Gryffindors who were playing the game.

Hermione watched them but wasn't focused on where her eyes had landed. She was still thinking about what her next step should be concerning Severus. "Neville, can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm?" He turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"How long had you fancied Luna before you and her got together?"

"About a year," he answered immediately, as if he had already been asked the same question before.

"And… why did it take a year for you to admit to her that you liked her?" She turned to him, already knowing the answer, but wanting to have it confirmed.

Neville smiled sheepishly. "I was afraid…"

"What happened to cause you to _not_ be afraid?" Hermione asked.

She had expected him to reply something like 'the war', or 'I found my courage', or even 'she admitted she fancied me first'. But none of those were his answers.

"She held my hand." He met her eyes and held them steadily, but they were alight with happiness. "And when she did that, I realized she cared for me. Really cared for me. And that was all I needed to know to hold her hand, squeeze it gently, and kiss it softly. And ever since then… we've been together."

Just then there was some loud shrieking from the Hufflepuff table. Hermione and Neville saw three of the girls at the table covered in the foul-smelling liquid from the Gobstones game they had been playing. Neville laughed and shook his head and Hermione cracked a small smile.

A plan had begun forming in her mind…

That evening, after dinner, Hermione went to the kitchens and sought out Winky. The House Elf was both surprised and happy to see Hermione, taking no time in saying that she had often wondered if "My professor's favorite student would come back".

"Winky, I need you to do me a favor, and I need you to keep it a secret. Do you think you could do that for me?"

The elf rotated her left foot nervously. "What is it that the Misses would like Winky to do?"

"I need you to deliver a letter to Professor Snape for me. I know you're not an owl, but I don't want an owl to deliver it. I need you to put it on the couch in his sitting room, where I used to sit."

"Did Professor Snape finally send you the letter he wrote?" Winky asked, and Hermione was surprised at the elf's daring question. She never would have expected Winky to offer anything more than a "yes, Misses" or "no, Misses" when asked to perform a duty. Not only was the reply surprising, but so was the information is revealed.

"I… have not received a letter from him, no…." Hermione confessed.

Winky's ears perked. "Then Winky should deliver it to you!" And before Hermione could advise the House Elf against it, she had disappeared with a loud _crack!_

Moments later, Hermione was opening a letter addressed to her in Severus' beautiful scrawl. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the sealed parchment.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _I am unsure as to where I should begin. I would like to be able to say that I know when and where and why all of this began, but I must confess I do not possess the answers. I cannot seem to appease even myself, hard as I try, when forming theories of my own. It could be, perhaps, that it began the moment your hand brushed against mine in the library. It may have begun when yours was the last face I saw as I fell into insentience. Although, my admiration of you began long before either of those moments. I hope I was able to convey the respect I have for you as we spent time together during the school year, despite the last few months. It is difficult for me to write this to you. While I do not know when my feelings began, I am unable to deny them, and I no longer wish to do so. I do not regret my decision to turn you away when you came to me this past April. I do, however, regret not professing to you my feelings on the eve of your graduation. Your words petrified me. I confess that I did not know how to react or respond. It was as if my world had been spun on its axis, and you its rotator. The truth, in its most basic form, is that I feel strongly for you. I desire you, in ways I have not ever desired someone before now. And, again in nothing but the truth, I was unprepared for you; for your openness, for your trust, for your warmth, for your everything. I am still unprepared._

 _And I do not know if I will ever allow this letter to reach your fingertips._

 _S. S._

Hermione felt a hot tear roll down her cheek. She clutched the letter to her chest and shut her eyes, trying to picture him as he had written the letter. How long ago had he written it? Did he still feel as strongly for her now as he did then?

She opened her eyes and looked down at an anxious-looking Winky. "I sent a letter to your professor a few weeks ago. Do you know if he opened it?"

"I do not know, Misses," Winky replied, sadly.

"Please, could you look for it, Winky? It's very important."

The elf disappeared with the usual _crack!_ and Hermione waited, heart pounding, for Winky to return. Luckily, only a few minutes passed and then she was popping back into existence.

"Is this the letter, Misses?" Winky handed her a small, unopened letter.

Hermione took it. "Yes, Winky, thank you." She tore the letter open and duplicated it. Then she gave the duplicate to Winky and said, "Please put this letter where he will find it. I need him to read it."

Winky bowed her head. "Yes, Misses." And with another loud _crack!_ the House Elf was gone.

Hermione leaned against one of the kitchen's counters, ignoring the curious glances of the other elves as they scurried around, cleaning the kitchen counters and floors.

 _What's done is done,_ Hermione thought to herself. _Now all I can do is wait and see what happens…_

It was near eleven o'clock when there came a loud rapping at Hermione's office door. Her private chambers were connected to the office and the knocks were easy to hear through the wall. Stepping into her office and closing the door that lead to her private sitting room, she headed towards her office door and slowly opened it.

She was not at all surprised to see Severus, his face molded into a frown, staring her down from the other side of the threshold.

"Professor," she said politely. "Is anything the matter?"

"Drop the niceties, Granger," he practically snarled, and then pushed past her and strode into her office.

"By all means, come in," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks flare with indignation at his invasion of her space. She knew he was trying to gain the upper hand, and so she would not let herself respond angrily to his unnecessary theatrics.

He reached her desk, glanced it over as if searching for something, and then spun to face her.

She very nearly laughed; the swirling of his robes was so comical to her now as opposed to intimidating. Instead, she calmly asked, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Wipe that bemused smile off your face. You know why I'm here," he snapped.

"If you continue to speak to me with hostility, I will have to ask you to leave, Severus." She folded her arms across her chest, letting her eyebrows come together in a warning glare.

"I am not leaving until you explain _this_ ," and he held up the envelope she had given to Winky to give to him. It was opened.

"Were the contents confusing to you?" She asked, continuing to keep her voice calm and steady.

He slammed the envelope down on her desk and she couldn't help but flinch at the raucous sound it made. She had never seen him this angry before. Instead of frightening her, it aggravated her. But she was insistent on not losing her poise.

"If you damage that desk, I will need you to repair it. I don't know what I have done to bring out this explosive display, but if you cannot control yourself and treat my personal belongings with respect, I will _make_ you leave," Hermione threatened, employing the warning tone she had already needed to use with a couple first-years earlier that day.

Her threat seemed to momentarily stun him, but then his anger came full-force again. He strode towards her, his eyes blazing, and she drew her wand, apparently faster than he had known her to react, for she had cast her shield charm quick enough to send him stumbling backwards.

"This is my last warning, Severus."

With a snarl, he drew his own wand and blasted her shield away. She gasped and stepped back. No one had ever disabled her shield before now.

Severus was on her in an instance, pressing her up against the wall of her office and breathing hot, angry air into her face.

"How did this letter come to be in my personal bedroom when before it had been upon my mantel?" he seethed at her.

"Perhaps because it is not the same letter," she replied.

He drew his head back slightly but did not move to allow her more space. If it had been any other wizard, perhaps she would have felt frightened. Because it was him, though, she felt on fire—all her senses heightened and scorching.

"If it is not the same letter, then where is the one from the mantle?"

"I have it. I needed to duplicate it so that, in case you destroyed it out of unchecked anger, I would have a copy for myself."

"And you also have the letter that I wrote to you, but did not send?"

"Yes."

He paused a moment, his eyes narrowing into thin, angry slants. "Where did you find it?"

She thought quickly. Winky had not told her where the letter to her had been. She would have to guess. But if she was wrong...he would know she hadn't retrieved the letter herself. "Your sitting room," she said finally.

His lips curled into a triumphant sneer. "Then you did not steal it. There is only one other explanation as to how you came by this letter."

"It doesn't matter how I got it. You're using this as an escape from talking to me about the content. Why didn't you just send it to me?"

"I assumed that would be obvious. I did not send it because I did not _want_ to send it."

"Yet you _wanted_ to write it, and did, only to turn cowardly," she bit back, though she felt a painful pang in her chest at his harsh words.

He brought his face closer to hers, closer than he had ever been to her, and she drew in a sharp breath.

"I do not allow _anyone_ to steal personal property from me, nor do I allow them to manipulate my House Elf into stealing from me, either."

Hermione shook her head and gave him a small smile. "You will use any excuse to avoid what you feel."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she had had enough. She had had enough of his cowardice, had enough of his denial, had enough of his rage. She closed the small distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

She felt him tense, his entire body becoming stiff and frozen in front of hers. But as she traced her tongue along his upper lip and then gently nibbled on his bottom, she felt him relax. He opened his mouth and accepted her, now inviting her to delve deeper. Her tongue brushed along his and she heard him suck in a breath of surprise, then his tongue reached back out to hers and they connected, touching and tasting, swirling around as if dancing. Without even realizing what she was doing, she pressed her body up against him and wrapped her arms around his neck so that her hands dived into his hair and her fingers finally touched his silky tresses. As he pressed back into her, his mouth coming down on hers with more passion, she let out a small moan of contentment. So long she had waited to kiss him. So long had she waited to press into him like this, to touch and feel and taste him.

But he pulled back and their lips disconnected.

"I came here to talk…" His words came out low and husky.

"No. You came here to rage at me. Let us, please, move past that."

He stepped back from her, shaking his head and glancing away, but she held him fast, her hand reaching out and grasping onto his robes, unwilling to let him leave.

"Severus, please don't think that I've deluded myself into believing you're this white knight who is noble and just. Don't, for one second, think that I've fooled myself into believing that you aren't still capable of being cold, distant and closed-off to others. Don't think that my eyes have clouded over because of the sacrifices you made so that the wizarding world could have a chance. I made sacrifices, too. And I am _not_ a child. Nor am I some immature witch grasping onto something that seems sugar-coated and delicious, but is spoiled. No. I know you can be mean. I know you can lose your temper. I know you are capable of holding grudges and belittling people and granting others with sarcasm and condescension when they only longed for praise. I know you would rather rage than admit to your feelings for me. I understand that all those things are a part of you. But I also know that you are true to your word, that you are a fierce and loyal friend, and that you do not see the world in only dark and light as some do, but instead see it in alternating shades of color. I know that you are afraid. I know that you are insecure. I know that you have convinced yourself you won't ever have happiness, and that you don't deserve it, so why reach for it? I know these things about you, but I am not arrogant. I also know that I do not know _everything_ about you… but _I want to_. Because I do know what I know about you, I want to know more. I want to know everything." She reached out and took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it gently. "I want to be a part of your everything, if you'll let me. If you want me."

She had been watching his face the entire time she had spoken to him, but he had not allowed a single emotion to show. She had expected that; prepared for it. She knew that if Voldemort hadn't been able to get him to react, she wouldn't be able to, either, not if he didn't want her to see his emotions.

He slipped his hand out of hers and walked out of her office. She watched as his robes fluttered behind him, as she had seen them do so many times, but this time it felt different. He was running away from her. While he may not, literally, be running, his actions were the equivalent.

Swallowing back a sob and closing her eyes to banish the tears that wanted to come, she closed the door to her office and walked back into her sitting room.

She had felt some of his passion and desire in his kiss. She knew he still wanted her. And because she knew what she did...she would not give up. But she had to tread carefully the next few days. She definitely did not want to push him over the edge. They both had a lot to think about, but she was willing to wait. She had let him know exactly how she felt. Now she just needed him to decide what he was going to do with that knowledge.

-SS-

He was tormented with fantasies of her.

Fantasies that plagued him for months after she had kissed the corner of his mouth on the eve of her graduation. He had imagined running after her, taking her by her shoulders and glaring furiously at her, demanding how she could ever dare to say she loved someone like him. And then demanding her to tell him more. So that he could hear her damn annoying, strangely comforting voice and know it was for him.

And now, tonight, he was plagued with the fantasy of grabbing her shoulders and seeing tears in her eyes from his silence. He imagined pulling her into an embrace, leaning over and digging his face into her brown hair, smelling her scents—lavender and peaches and fresh parchment. He imagined tilting her chin up and capturing her lips with his mouth, parting her soft flesh and tasting all he could of her. To kiss her again the way they had kissed in her office just hours ago.

Why had he left? Even after she had proclaimed, again, that she wanted to be with him, why had he turned and walked away?

Because there were other things he needed to know but was not ready to ask. Had she loved anyone else? Had she tasted the other opportunities that were out there for her to taste? How did she know that what she sought from him would not be only a disappointment to her?

And yet, he wanted her. He did want her. And he was tempted, so tempted, to take her for himself. But he had to be sure. He had to know that she would not regret her decision to be with him. And how was that to be known by kisses? It would not. They must talk. But he must not let his anger get the better of him as it had. Fear and anger combined proved to be volatile.

As he stared into the fire of his sitting room, he knew he must talk to her. But was he ready to hear her answers?

A/N: I'm so sorry this second chapter took so long for me to post, and it's not even that long. My school work has been very demanding, and I've been sick the past 3 days. I'll do my best to get chap 3 up sooner, but no promises. I hope you are able to enjoy this one in the mean time :) thank you all for your continued support!


	27. Chapter 3 - Patronuses

Chapter 3

Patronuses

The next day, he saw that she had signed up to help Irma supervise the students in the library. He couldn't help but glare over at her as she stood next to Longbottom, smiling and talking with the Herbology apprentice. He scowled in her direction until he realized she wasn't going to look his way, which only added to his irritation.

The day passed just as slowly and as dully as the day before had and by the time the students had finished eating dinner in the Great Hall, Severus was anxious to get back into his private sitting room where he could massage his temples and stare, broodingly, into his fire.

Near midnight, he realized it would be another few hours before his mind would allow him to sleep without the use of a sleeping draught. Resigned to not have to take one, as he had the previous night, he decided to patrol the castle halls even though it was not his scheduled night to do so.

Hogwarts was calm and quiet, with nothing out of the ordinary appearing in the darkness nor out of place sounds reaching his trained ears, until he stepped into the corridor that lead to the library. A dim light was flickering from somewhere among the bookshelves and his steps became quicker, but stayed noiseless, as he determinedly sought out the rule-breaking student. He secretly hoped it would be a Gryffindor.

And a Gryffindor it was, but not a student.

Granger—Professor Granger—sat comfortably at one of the desks in the Restricted Section of the library. A lit lantern was resting on the table, illuminating the large volume she was leaning over with a warm golden glow. Her hair was up in a bun, with just a few curly strands spilling out and down along the sides of her face, and her eyes, gleaming in the low light, swam back and forth over the pages.

"Did you not have your fill of the library earlier today, Professor?" He kept his voice low, not quite a whisper, but not its normal volume either. Still, the witch startled, her eyes shooting up to him in surprise.

Upon registering who he was, she immediately relaxed. This irritated and pleased him at the same time. She gave him a small smile and placed her finger on the book, presumably where he had interrupted her reading. "Good evening, Professor." Her eyes were glued to his and he suddenly felt as if he could not look away. "Trouble sleeping?" she asked.

The question from anyone else might've come off as mocking or condescending, but from her it seemed… knowing; as if she would not at all be surprised that he was, indeed, having trouble getting to sleep.

When he did not answer, she patted the chair next to her and said, "Would you care to join me?" Though her smile was small, her eyes were shining with mirth. She was undoubtedly enjoying every moment of their midnight interaction.

He let himself examine her for a moment. His eyes trailed from hers down to her mouth and further still to rest on her exposed neck. How he longed to press his aching lips along its curve and across her shoulder. He leaned to the side slightly, hoping that she would not notice the steadily growing bulge in his trousers.

"Well?" she asked, as her eyebrows rose and her smile widened.

He turned on his heels and strode away from her, feeling the urge to turn back to glance at her, but forcing himself not to.

A coward, then.

-HG-

Hermione knew she was getting closer. She had seen a flash of desperate longing in his eyes when she had invited him to join her in the library. Although he had resisted and had, once again, fled from her, she had not felt dissuaded. If anything, she felt as if with just a little more tender pushes from her, he would soon give in and, at least, talk to her.

The first day of classes went smoothly. Hermione had a class of seventh-years, being a mixture of all four Houses, followed by second-years students, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, then a break before and after lunch, followed by the Huffepuff and Slytherin second-years before the students had their free time before dinner. She recognized a few of the seventh-year students in her morning class but knew none of the second-year students. She had been concerned that the seventh-years students might not have respected her or taken her seriously, but all of them seemed well behaved and generally interested in the subject, and her heroism during the war two years previous was obviously still fresh on the students' minds as they had whispered excitedly to one another in the Great Hall the first night when the Headmistress had announced Hermione's name and position.

So, overall, Hermione's first day as a Hogwarts teacher went well. She hadn't seen Severus during the day. He had been absent for breakfast and had not been in the teacher's lounge during the lunch break, though Hermione wasn't surprised by this. He was most likely where he had been during lunchtime when she had been a student—shut up in his private lab. The notion to go and join him crossed her mind, but she decided against it. She knew, not only would he expect her to seek him out and she would rather not come off as predictable, but it was probable that he would make an appearance for dinner, since she couldn't see him missing two meals in the Great Hall in one day without suffering Minerva's wrath.

Her assumption was proven correct that evening. While Severus looked tense, and if she wasn't mistaken, also tired, he did make an appearance at the head table for dinner. He had come in a few minutes after the other teachers, so Hermione and Neville were already enjoying a pleasant conversation about Neville's apprenticeship when Hermione felt the air to her right stir and she caught his scent. After their kiss, his scent had been hard to put out of her mind, so it was only natural that she caught it immediately and turned towards him, unconsciously taking in a deeper breath to get more of him.

His eyes rested on hers and held them. That was when she noticed how tired he appeared. Hermione felt a small stab of guilt, wondering if he had not been able to get any sleep the previous night. Was it all her doing? Or was something else the matter? And if it was her doing, whether or not intentional, should she feel guilty?

"Evening, Professor Snape," Neville greeted, giving the potions master a weary smile. While Neville wasn't afraid of Severus anymore, he clearly wasn't wanting to be snapped at, either.

"Apprentice Longbottom," Severus inclined his head politely. "Professor Granger," he added, meeting her eyes again and then looking towards his plate.

After a moments silence, brought on by Severus' sudden appearance, Hermione gently asked, "Did your lessons go well today, Severus?"

She didn't miss the way his hand gripped tighter to his fork, but his face remained calm and unexpressive when he replied, "As well as they could go, for the first day of term." His voice sounded dead.

Hermione's chest constricted painfully.

"What years did you teach today?" Neville asked, curiously, leaning over his plate and turning his head so that he could talk without raising his voice.

"First, second, third, fifth and sixth-years," Severus droned.

Sensing he didn't want to talk, Neville nodded and leaned back, deciding it'd be wiser to focus on his food than to continue to ask Severus questions.

Hermione nibbled at her garden salad and porkchops, glancing sideways every now and then to see if Severus was looking at her. He glanced up a few times to survey the hall, but other than that his eyes stayed focused on his dinner and his expression somewhat dour.

Her heart pounding faster, Hermione decided to act. She would attempt to snap him out of whatever brooding mood he was in and would try to comfort him, granted she didn't know exactly what the matter was, but suspected it could involve her. Slowly, cautiously, Hermione set her right hand under the table and slid it over into his space. Her fingers reached for him, hoping he would not jump up at her touch and leave the table, though she knew that would be the likely outcome. Still, at least he would leave knowing that she cared.

Her hand finally touched the soft material of his black slacks and she felt him flinch beside her, but his movement was so slight she knew no one else would've noticed if they had been watching. Before he could do more than flinch, she pressed her palm and fingers down onto his thigh and squeezed gently, in what she hoped would register as being a gesture of care and concern.

He didn't push her hand away, but he did turn his head to look at her. She turned to him and saw that his eyes had turned cold and threatening. She realized he might've construed her touch as a taunt, a flirtatious jab at him, but she needed him to know that it wasn't.

She stared back into his eyes, unblinkingly, and forced her expression to that of concern and care. She squeezed gently again and began to trace small, slow circles on his leg with her index finger. It was as if her fingers were her wand; casting a spell on the man she touched. Severus' eyes dropped, the coldness from them dissipating, and his shoulders seemed to relax at the same time. Hermione was forcibly reminded of the night in the piano room when she had seen him looking lost, forlorn, and as if a great weight rested on his shoulders.

If only he would let her love him…

Though he wouldn't look at her, she felt his hand rest on top of hers and felt her stomach lurch at the unexpected contact. His hand was just as warm as it had been the first time hers had brushed his in the library. That day felt like it had happened only yesterday, and yet also as if it had been years.

He slid his dexterous fingers in between hers, squeezed her hand, and then released her.

He stood up and left without a word, without a glance.

-SS-

It was becoming more painful with every passing hour. She didn't approach him, nor did he approach her. He knew they needed to talk, and yet he felt he wasn't ready to hear what she had to say.

No. That wasn't the truth. The truth was that he wasn't ready to tell her how he felt.

Professor Granger—Hermione—hadn't touched him again the following morning or evening at the head table, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Interestingly enough, she seemed very involved with Neville and how he had been fairing overall since they had last spoken, and from overhearing snippets of their conversation she was also very interested in how Luna Lovegood was fairing as well. Severus' curiosity was peeked when he noticed that her tone sweetened whenever she spoke to Neville about Luna. But he refrained from joining in their conversation.

"Severus, could I have a word?" He had just gotten up to leave from the table when Minerva called to him from her seat.

He walked over to her and said, respectfully, "Yes, Headmistress?"

"Molly is unable to cover her after-hours patrol tonight as a family matter has suddenly arisen and she needed to floo home earlier. Would you exchange your shift with hers?"

Severus could feel Granger's eyes on him.

"Of course, Minerva. Is everything quite alright with…" he stopped himself, but his eyes shifted to Molly's empty seat. He had noticed she hadn't been there for dinner but hadn't known until now that it was due to urgent matters. Normally he wouldn't inquire, but Molly had managed to nudge herself into his heart over the past year. She and Minerva had been, quite constantly, trying to lift his spirits during his bout of depression. While that depression had lasted only a few months, he found that he respected and admired both witches in their concern for his well-being.

"As it is a sensitive matter, I will have to let Molly confide in you herself, if she so wishes. But as to her personal health, she is as well as she can be. Thank you, Severus."

He dipped his head in a slight bow and continued on his way, passing by Granger's chair. He hadn't missed the quick twitch of her neck as she clearly tried to conceal the fact that her eyes had been burning a hole in the back of his head a mere second before.

He knew why she had been watching, of course, and eavesdropping no doubt. She had been listed on the patrol roster for tonight, at the same time Molly had been scheduled.

If the universe was on his side, he would be able to avoid her.

 _When, you dolt, has the universe ever been on your side?_ He sneered to himself.

And his pessimistic side was proven correct when, no more than ten minutes into his patrolling of the castle, he heard footsteps coming towards him and seconds later saw bushy brown hair and Granger's face as she lit her wand with a flourish.

"Oh," she said. "I thought you might be a student. Miss Smith warned me that she heard a few fourth-year Hufflepuff students talking of having a midnight picnic on the Astronomy tower tonight." She extinguished her light.

Severus felt his eyebrows raise with both peeked interest and at just the need to do something other than frown.

"Miss Smith assured me she would do what she could to dissuade them, but I told her I'd be on the lookout just in case," she continued, her voice lower than normal, either to not wake the many occupants of the portraits around them, or to attempt to remain inaudible as she was supposed to be seeking out rule-breaking students.

Severus shook his head and smirked. "Hufflepuffs."

She chuckled. "Yeah, sometimes I wish I had made more friends outside of my own House while at Hogwarts. I feel like some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in my year would've made great allies."

They began walking towards the staircases together. His feet propelled him to walk alongside her seemingly of their own accord. "Still prejudiced, I see."

She turned to him and he saw out of his peripherals that she was frowning at him. "I _hardly_ think any of Parkinson's lot would've wanted to be our _allies_. They probably would've laughed themselves to death if Harry, Ron or I had suggested such an alliance. I hope you do know that she's the one who wanted to hand Harry over to Voldemort when he threatened the school."

Severus held up his hand and smirked at her. "Parkinson does not and has never represented the entirety of the students in Slytherin House. And, jealousy tends to cause others to unknowingly belittle themselves."

"You're saying Pansy and her miscreants were mean to me because they were _jealous_?"

"Slytherin is the House of ambition. Nearly _every_ Slytherin was jealous of you. And you didn't help the matter by—"

"I know, I know," she cut him off. "Not being _subtle enough_. I remember."

They fell silent. Severus' smirk had faded. They were now on the third floor, heading to the fourth. Minerva must've taught Granger the charm to be able to see in the dark. All professors who were on the patrol roster learned the spell. This was so the patrolling professors could walk the corridors without needing a light as the appearance of one would surely give rule-breaking students the whereabouts of the professor. Filch, being a Squib, had to have one of the professors cast the charm on him nightly.

Finally, when he could no longer tolerate the taut silence, said to her, "You've...changed."

"As have you," she said, not missing a beat.

He felt her eyes but would not meet them. "Hopefully not as noticeably as you have."

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment."

He turned to her then, but she had looked away. Still he replied, "I find it difficult to match you with the same young woman who sobbed uncontrollably on my couch almost two years ago."

She glared at him.

"You were quite pathetic." He smirked.

"I doubt that's what you were thinking as you rubbed me down with healing ointment."

Her choice of words caused his stomach to knot, but he fought to control his expression. He was absolutely, under no circumstances, about to explain what he had been thinking as he had applied that ointment, but the memory of doing so flashed before his eyes. He felt a burning in his lower abdomen.

"My thoughts were detained," he said through gritted teeth. "But afterwards, my astute mind accurately labeled the experience as 'Miss Granger's pathetic display of turmoil on my sitting room couch'."

"Don't make me hex you," she warned.

"You wouldn't dare," he said back. Was this flirting? Were they flirting? His stomach clenched uncomfortably, and his lower regions continued to burn.

She was staring at him with a straight face, but he saw what he could only describe as mischief in her eyes. "I've come face to face with a wild Wampus and come away unscathed. I think I could take you," she threatened.

 _That's a new piece of information,_ he thought to himself, surprised and intrigued.

"Be that as it may," he said. "You haven't come face to face with a Wampus-serpent-bat of the dungeons. Remember, I consist of all three." He expected her to smile. He was certainly going for humor, but instead she stared into his eyes, all seriousness.

Barely above a whisper she replied, "Not to me."

A silence fell between them as they surveyed each other. Part of him was still in shock that she was there, walking beside him with her arms crossed over her chest, and that seconds before they had been what would surely be described as flirting.

She was the one to break the quiet.

"Speaking of your Patronus, I've been researching them over the last year and I've made some interesting discoveries."

"I'd love to be enlightened," he drawled, crossing his arms across his back and bringing his hands together. They were on the fifth floor now.

"Well, I'd rather you read about my findings in detail once I've finished the paper I'm working on. But I suppose I could share the most interesting discoveries I've made," she replied. "It is already known that a Patronus can change due to feeling unconditional love for another person. Before my travels, I had only known of two such cases—yours and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin. Her Patronus, as you probably remember, changed into a wolf, the same Patronus Remus had. And then there's your Patronus."

He was surveying her carefully and watched as her eyes shifted to his quickly then swiveled back to searching the halls and corridors they passed.

"So, a Patronus that has changed to match that of the loved one's does symbolize unconditional love, however, it does not always occur. The phenomena is quite rare."

"Obviously," he interrupted, smirking at her.

"Yes," she agreed, taking his smirk in stride. "It is obvious, because many witches and wizards fall in love and stay in love, while their Patronus does not change to match that of the one they love. It has been concluded by other witches and wizards researching Patronuses that the changing of a Patronus due to unconditional love is usually brought on by a catalyst—this catalyst usually being heartache, heartbreak, grief, mourning, or any strong feelings of desperation and longing. In short, the witch's or wizard's love for the other is so overwhelming that it not only effects their behavior and body chemistry, but it effects their very soul. It also suggests that the witch or wizard who experiences a Patronus change is not only powerful, but empathetic as well. I, however, was interested in discovering why said Patronuses would ever change _again_."

She shot him another quick glance and quickly looked away again. When she didn't continue right away he asked, "And? What were your findings?"

"I found only three others who have experienced their Patronus changing more than once. One wizard, in America, cast his first Patronus when he was seventeen years old. It had been a badger, but when he fell in love with his partner two years later, his Patronus had changed to match his, a rattlesnake. Seven years later, his partner left him, and for many years after his Patronus remained the same. Until he met and fell in love with another wizard, and his Patronus changed back into a badger."

"Interesting. What were the other two instances?"

"The second was in Brazil, and the third in Africa. The witch in Brazil fell in love with a wizard who did not reciprocate her feelings. She, like you and Lily, had been friends with him from a young age, and she had soon grown to love him more than he loved her. She cast her first Patronus at age twenty, and even though he and she had both gone their separate ways and she was married, her Patronus was that of the man she had harbored love for so long. She did not realize this, of course, until many years later when she and her unrequited love reunited, and they realized they, at one point, had matching Patronuses, which were both tapirs. However, by the time they had reunited, her Patronus had again already changed. You see, for many years she and her husband tried to have a child, but there were many complications. Finally, at the age of thirty, she had her first born and only child. From then on, her Patronus was no longer the same. It had changed into a toucan."

"That is even more intriguing," Severus replied. He realized how much time and dedication she must've spent during her journey to track down witches and wizards with their own interesting Patronus stories. He was impressed with her dedication, as well as her success.

"The one from Africa is my favorite, though," she continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "A young man, only twenty-seven, experienced the change of his Patronus _three times_."

Severus felt his eyebrows raise. "And you believed him?"

"Of course I did! Everyone in his village swore by it. He was the pride of their tribe. He was able to cast a Patronus at the incredibly young age of eleven to ward off a Lethifold from attacking his three younger sisters while they slept. His first Patronus was a hyena. Then, when he cast his second Patronus, after having fallen in love, it had become a gazelle, which matched that of the woman he fell in love for. That was when he was seventeen." His lover died during the birth of their fourth child, when he was twenty-three and she twenty-one. But, his Patronus didn't change again until he was twenty-five, when the village selected him to be their Uchawi Mlezi—their Magic Guardian, the most esteemed and honored position in their magical village. Part of the ceremony was for him to display his magical skills and when he cast his Patronus, it had changed from a gazelle to…"

She paused again, so he turned to her and saw that her eyes had lit up in excitement. Unable to help himself he said to her somewhat sarcastically, "An incredibly powerful animal?"

Again ignoring his sarcasm she whispered enthusiastically, "A _beast!_ A Nundu! Everyone in the village were so shocked, some of the younger children even ran behind their mothers' legs! I asked him if I could see and he showed me and, Merlin, it was amazing," she breathed, her entire face alight and flushed at the memory.

Under any other circumstances, to anyone else, he might've made a snarky reply. Instead, he quietly asked, "And what conclusions have you made in regards to our Patronuses?"

Her face fell, but only slightly. She still seemed happy, but also nervous. "Well, I've determined that my Patronus changed due to everything I experienced during the war and how those experiences drastically changed my outlook on life. Your Patronus, well, I can only speculate that yours changed because your life, too, changed drastically after the war. Not only did you no longer have to spy on one of the darkest wizards of our age, but you were also able to let go of so many negative feelings and embrace other… feelings… you weren't able to embrace before."

He sensed that she wasn't explaining herself fully, and wanted to ask her to go on, but the sudden heat on the back of his neck and the churning of his stomach made his words catch in his throat.

"Severus, I…" Hermione stopped and turned her body towards him. They had reached the corridor that lead to the astronomy tower. Although it was nearing eleven at night, he could see her as clearly as if it were the daytime. Her eyes were glistening, her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed to be working out how to say her next words.

"Your feelings for me… they truly have not changed?" Severus asked before she could continue.

She balked at him, but then her features relaxed as she said, gently, "Why would they have ever changed?"

A/N: I am SUPER SORRY this is up so late. Basically what happened is that I was sick, had finals, was still sick, and then had a ton of stuff to catch up on in my personal life that I'm still catching up on. It might seem like this chapter ended suddenly, and it kind of did, because as I was writing I realized the chapter had gone from the normal 4,000 word count to over 8,000, so I had to split it up. But, the good news that comes from this is I have this chapter and then next chapter already completed. I just need to edit the next chapter which should only take about 2-3 days and then it'll be up, so you definitely will NOT have to wait as long for chap. 4 as you did for chap. 2 and 3. Thanks so much for bearing with me as I get everything worked out over on my end.


	28. Chapter 4 - Finalmente (Finally)

Chapter 4

Finalmente

(Finally)

"I thought, given time..." He faltered, then forced out, "given more time for you to consider your other options—"

"Other options?" she interrupted. "What, exactly, are my other options?" Her tone had hardened, not with coldness, but with incredulousness.

He scoffed at her. He couldn't help it. Was she intentionally playing dumb? Did she want him to admit all the other choices, better choices, she had available to her that did not involve him?

He must've paused for too long because then she said, "I don't have other options—not ones that are realistic. I could've spent more time traveling, meeting other wizards and witches, but I feel a year abroad was ample time for me to see what else the world had to offer. I could work at the Ministry, but I don't feel like that's where I belong right now. I could go out and meet other wizards, perhaps get in touch with some of my old classmates. But that's not really who I am. And why go out and search for someone when I've already found someone?"

His heart leapt into his throat and her gorgeous eyes, unwavering, held onto his.

"But wasn't that what you were doing, when you traveled? Searching?" He felt himself ask, though his mouth suddenly felt dry.

She gave him a small smile, still maintaining eye contact. "I was searching for my parents. And then for some time to decide what I wanted to do…and I must admit, I was hoping to find some peace of mind."

"I know you found your parents...but did you find peace?"

-HG-

Hermione gave him a sad smile and said, "No. As long as I was away from you, my heart nor mind could be at peace."

His eyebrows knitted together in frustration. She couldn't bring her eyes to meet his. She did want to see that look on his face.

"You are a fool," he sighed.

She felt on the verge of tears. Why was he saying that? Was it true that her love for him had always been one sided? Was that why he had told her enough was enough just before she graduated? Her lust and romantic feelings, the way she longed for him to hold her and kiss her and…more…was completely one sided? To his eyes, was she truly too young, too annoying, too immature, no matter how hard she tried to convince him otherwise? Then why had he written that letter to her? Though, he had never sent it… Then why had he kissed her back so passionately only three nights ago?

"You are a fool," he said again, but squeezed her arm gently as he said it. His voice didn't sound as rough, but instead had a husky quality to it. She looked at him and registered that he was giving her an unfamiliar expression. It reminded her of the expression he had held in the piano room, when she had needed to pull him back to reality… but it was also clearly different. It was pained, yet also concerned and… was that… amazement?

Then he was bringing his hand up to the side of her face, cupping her cheek and chin in his warm palm. Her face tingled where he touched her. "Maybe you aren't as smart as everyone believes you to be," he said, smirking, his eyes twinkling.

She opened her mouth to throw a retort at him, but then his finger was gently tracing her lower lip and his eyes were boring into hers, as if he was trying to read her mind. Was he?

"I only pushed you away because you were my student. And because I was… unprepared. And because I believed you didn't know what you wanted."

"That doesn't make it any better. That just shows you didn't trust my judgement."

"I never said it made anything better. But it's the truth. I didn't push you away because I didn't feel the same way about you. I pushed you away because… I didn't want either of us to get hurt."

He was still tracing her lower lip with his thumb. If her lips had been aching for him before, it was nothing compared to how they felt currently.

"But I ended up hurt anyway," she sighed sadly. Still, she did not break eye contact with him.

"I know my turning you away hurt you, but I was sure that once you left, once you obtained a sense of what was out in the world for you, ready and waiting for you to grasp it, you would no longer be hurt by my rejection. You would forget about me. You would move on. You would find something better, much better."

She felt the strong, brazen defiance rise up inside of her as she blurted out, "I don't want something better. I want _you_." And though she said those words with confidence, she looked down in fear that he would reject her… again. For another reason. Or the same—believing he knew better.

His thumb and forefinger gently lifted her head so that she was looking straight into his eyes. Their noses were an inch apart, and she could smell that familiar scent of him; metal, parchment, ink, and a spicy-sweet smell she still couldn't place—she'd have to ask him about it some time. Continuing to breathe him in, her eyes fluttered shut and she fell into his scent and touch.

Just as she was about to close the space between them, a loud noise came from the astronomy tower. Hermione jumped and they both drew their wands instinctively. Severus narrowed his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh through his nose.

"If any students, including those from my own House, are truly having a picnic up there, I'm going to strangle every. Sing. One. Of them," he ground out.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his annoyance, but she too was annoyed. That sound, whatever had caused it, was also the reason she was not snogging him senseless right then. "They may wish you had strangled them after we have them spend detention with Filch."

He turned to her, eyebrows raised in curiosity and amusement. "Is that so? What detention do you have planned for them, oh-so-forgiving Gryffindor?"

Hermione's lips curled into a grin. "Earlier today, two Gryffindors, siblings, got into a pretty bad row outside Greenhouse three. The brother cast the Slug-Vomiting Charm. The sister was able to hit him at the same time with the Leeks jinx. Both brother and sister are still in the Hospital Wing. However, knowing that some of the Hufflepuffs might try to stay out after hours, I asked Pomona if she would leave the mess of leeks and slugs instead of vanishing them, and I asked Filch not to clean it as I was saving it for a potential punishment."

Severus smirked, but also looked impressed. "How very Slytherin of you."

"I guess someone has been rubbing off on me," she replied, giving him a wink. She was pleased to see a slight flush begin at the base of his neck in response to her words.

"Shall we, then?" he asked her, indicating to the astronomy tower where another loud noise had just sounded.

"Lead the way, Professor Snape."

Hermione couldn't stop smiling.

The following day she was pleased to realize that Severus had become less tense around her during their meal times together. She didn't make a move to touch him again, and he didn't make a move to touch her, but she felt happier than she had since the first day of the term.

After dinner, since Hermione didn't have patrol duty, she began grading the first assignments for her classes. Hours passed quickly and soon it was nearing midnight. Stretching and yawning, she put aside her work and looked around her office. Just as she stood to walk to her sitting room a loud knock sounded at her office door.

Stifling another yawn, she opened her door in time to see Severus standing outside her office, wearing nothing but his black loafers, black slacks, and white button-down shirt.

She felt her heart skip a beat at his gorgeousness but managed to speak. "Is there something I can do for you, Severus?"

"There are many things you could do for me, Hermione."

Her heart gave a shudder at the unexpected sound of her first name. Before she could open her mouth to reply, however, he had rushed her.

Pushing her against the wall, he attacked her mouth and body all at once. Forcibly parting her lips open to receive him and pressing his body as close to her as possible, her head spun with the sudden lack of oxygen and the sudden surge of ecstasy. This kiss was much different than the one they had shared previously. This one, she knew, came from desperate, unyielding desire. She felt him flick his wrist and heard the door slam and lock with a loud click. The sound made her body tremble, knowing that they were locked in the low light together, completely alone.

He was still kissing her deeply, but now his hands had begun to rove her body, and she felt her own limbs react almost instinctively, traveling up to gently tug on his hair. She reveled in the feeling of his tresses like black satin. One of his large hands drove itself deep into her curly locks while the other wrapped around her waist and gently, but powerfully, pulled her away from the wall.

Pulling his lips back and allowing them both to breathe, she heard his voice growl, "You have… no idea… how long I've wanted this."

"Not as long as I have," she retorted, breathlessly. Her lips were aching for him to kiss her again. And something else, something wet between her legs, was beginning to ache for him as well.

He let out a loud moan from somewhere deep inside him, a response to her admission and her body. He removed his hand from her hair and brought it down to join his other at her waist. Lifting her as if she weighed that of a feather, he began to carry her over to the door that lead to her sitting room. She wrapped her legs tightly around him and her heart pounded like an avalanche in her chest as they began to kiss again.

 _Merlin's pants… I'm snogging Severus Snape. How...?_

But her inner dialogue was cut off abruptly as they crossed through her sitting room and she heard what was unmistakably the sound of her bedroom door being kicked open. Morgana, he was strong. She never would've guessed... never knew...

He drew his lips from hers again and brought them to her left ear. "I think we'd be more comfortable in here, don't you think?"

Although her mouth wasn't dry by any means, her reply caught in her throat and instead a small whine came out. He brought his head back so that she could see the smirk he displayed, and his dark eyes were glimmering mischievously. In that moment, he was sexy and alluringly breathtaking all at once.

"I'm surprised at you." He spoke softly, tenderly, but still with a drip of goading. "Usually I can't get you to shut up."

In response, she threw herself at his neck, taking the spot just above his clavicle gently in her teeth and biting down, harder than a nibble, but not hard enough to draw blood. The effect was immediate.

Severus let out a deep groan that seemed to radiate through his entire body. His grip on her backside tightened as his fingers dug into her flesh with an untamed, primal need.

She let go of his skin and lightly drew her tongue over the area where she left teeth marks, then gently began sucking. His groan turned into a soft moan and suddenly they were collapsing together onto her king-sized bed. Her lips let go of their victim as he pressed into her, completely covering her. She could feel the throbbing thickness of his member, warm and ready to rip out of his black slacks. She felt as if she had never wanted anyone so badly in her entire life.

"Severus..." she heard herself moan as her hand traveled down to where he was warmest.

But his smile was full of mischief and mirth as he gently stopped her hand from reaching its destination. "Not yet, my love," he rumbled from deep in the back of his throat. She whined with her desire, not understanding why he was prolonging the inevitable until she felt one of his hands slowly pulling up her blouse. His hand, calloused from the many years of brewing, still felt warm and tender as it caressed her smooth skin over to her left breast. She silently thanked herself for the decision to take off her bra during her grading-papers routine.

He dragged his finger over her nipple, lingering long enough to gently squeeze and tug and lightly flick until it was a hard, pink nub between his fingers. He yanked up the red fabric of her blouse higher still and brought his tongue to her nipple, tenderly sucking and causing her body to jerk with pleasure. He brought his other hand to her right breast and began to massage her other nipple as he continued to lick and suck.

She felt as if her entire body was being awakened for the first time, and her crotch was swollen and surely throbbing with anticipation.

"Severus, please..." she begged.

His hot breath swam over her breast and traveled to her right. It seemed as if he wanted her to be balanced, equally pleased on both sides. With an expertise she hadn't known he possessed, he sucked her right nipple and then dragged his tongue down her cleavage, down her stomach, resting at the top of her dark blue jeans.

She didn't know why she had thought he would've been rough with her sexually. Instead, he was powerful but gentle, precise and tender, extremely sensual, and she found herself pleasantly surprised. She would've loved the roughness from her fantasies, but the reality of his tenderness was amazingly arousing, and there was no way she was going to ask him to do this any differently. It just felt too good.

He began to unbutton her pants, even though he could've used magic, and soon he had them pulled off and flung onto the floor. He rubbed his nose along her right inner thigh, then her left, and she shivered in pleasure at the warm air that tickled her between her legs. He chuckled as he felt her legs twitch and she heard him take in a deep breath.

"You smell wonderful…" he sighed, his silky voice sending more trembles through her body. "I would love to taste you," he added.

It wasn't that she didn't want to feel his lips on her most sensitive, private part, but she really just wanted to feel him inside of her. She had never had another man inside her, and she wanted to experience her first time with him as soon as possible. She had fantasized about the moment he would slide inside her for over a year and now she didn't want to wait any longer. She had no expectations except one, and that was to have him in her.

"Severus," she whispered, "I do want that, but what I want more right now, what I truly ache for, is to feel you inside me." She couldn't believe she was saying those words out loud, but how else was he to know? She couldn't believe that he'd be intruding her mind now, not when he had felt guilty for doing so without her consent before.

"Are you certain, Hermione?" he asked, bringing his face back up to hers and hovering over her, their mouths apart only by an inch.

She stared into his eyes, those gorgeous eyes that reminded her of the black lake during autumn and the beautiful hematite gemstone. "Without a doubt. I've desired you for so long, Severus. I've waited…"

He brought their lips together in another kiss and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Then let us not wait any longer," he murmured into her lips.

She let out a small gasp and her eyes shot open when she realized his shirt had disappeared. She examined him, and her heart hitched up another notch when she saw he was now completely nude. His upper arms and shoulders and some of his neck was scarred, as she knew they'd be, but the rest of him was covered in taut muscle and light creamy skin. His member was larger than she had imagined, and longer too, but nothing out of the ordinary or extreme, which suited her fine. She was on the smaller side herself and didn't want to feel scared or feel too sore in the morning.

"I think you're still wearing too much," he informed her, his eyes twinkling. "Would you like me to take care of that for you?"

Unable to speak, Hermione just nodded and smiled, never looking away from his eyes. He snapped his fingers and the rest of her clothes disappeared. She was now completely bared to him as he was to her. She blushed, but the look in his eyes as he looked her over removed all nervousness from her mind. He was staring at her as if he had never wanted anything more in his life.

He let out a small moan and lowered himself to kiss the area wear her lower curls stopped. She was neatly trimmed, but not divested of hair. She felt more mature with it there, and luckily it seemed that her lover did not mind it at all. He trailed the point of his nose back and forth over the same area, planted another kiss there, then brought his lips back to hers. He lowered himself over her and she felt his own warmth come between her legs.

"I'm ready for you, Severus," she breathed.

"We'll see about that," he said back, cheekily.

She huffed with mock indignation, but soon she was letting out another moan as his deft fingers found her wetness and gently probed her, sinking in one finger, pulling out, and then slipping in two. His fingers felt heavenly. She expected the girth of his member would feel even better.

"I take it all back," he sighed, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. "You are very, very ready." She watched in both embarrassment and awe as he slid both his fingers out of her and placed them into his mouth, twirling his tongue around them and sucking off her juices. Then he retrieved them and wrapped his slick fingers around himself, keeping eye contact with her the entire time. "Just tell me when, my beautiful," he whispered.

"Now, please," she whined, feeling as if to wait a second longer would be torture.

"I am yours to command," he whispered back, eyes flashing, and then he was pushing himself into her slowly, but confidently. He let out a loud groan as his head submerged and she felt herself wriggle beneath him, seeking more of him. He slid in another few inches and it was her turn to groan, which turned into a whimper as he pressed through her barrier. It was slightly painful, but as soon as he was fully nestled inside of her the pain vanished, replaced with a fullness she had never before experienced.

"Hermione, was that…?"

She looked up at him in time to see his face holding an expression of worry. It was so different than his usual expressions that for a moment she felt like giggling, but instinctively knew now was not the time. He was worried for her, about her, and she realized he must not have known she was still a virgin.

She brought her hand to cup the side of his face and she smoothed her thumb over his check tenderly. "I am sorry… I assumed… I thought you knew… but I am fine, Severus. More than fine, in fact. I've been fantasizing about this for so long, and now it's happened, and I couldn't feel happier. Please, do not be worried or angry. This is what I want. _You_ are what I want," she assured him.

He stared at her for a few seconds, but then sighed and said, "You are a Gryffindor minx, you know that?" and again his mouth was descending on hers, but now it was accompanied by a jolt to her core as he moved inside her.

He went slowly, easily, until she could feel him shudder and see a sheet of shining sweat on his forehead. "I would like…" he growled out.

"Do whatever you need, please, it all feels wonderful," she whispered.

Without hesitating, he began pumping harder, faster, and the way he was hitting along her most sensitive spot was causing her face to tingle with ecstasy. She dug her finger nails into the sides of his shoulders, silently praying she wouldn't hurt him and that the amazing feeling building inside her would never end.

She felt his shudders become stronger and then he was pushing inside her, so deeply, and she could feel his juices pumping into her. She was filled with an unimaginable warmth and felt herself exploded less than a second after him, her brain feeling as is she had just been Imperiused, but her body feeling as if every atom of her being was humming, singing with joy. She shook, she trembled, she spasmed, all while he was coming down from his own high, but still pushing himself deep inside her.

"Breathe, Hermione," he whispered and kissed her left temple.

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and then sucked in the warm air that floated between them. They were both glistening with sweat and shaking. He was still seated inside her, but the pressure had lessened. Her hands still clutched to his shoulders, but her grip had loosened. While the feeling of pleasure was fading, she felt the happiest she had felt in a long time.

Her face shining, her eyes gleaming, she forced herself to bring her head up and kiss him. He kissed her back and then rolled over to lie next to her. In one, fluid motion he was sliding an arm under her and pulling her flush against him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low and tender.

"Like I've stepped into one of the best dreams I could have ever dreamed," she sighed back, completely content.

He let out a small chuckle, but asked, "You are still positive this is what you want? You are not—"

She cut him off by turning into him and placing a finger to his lips. "I want you, Severus. This has never felt so right." She paused, her his searching his intently. "I only hope that this is truly what you want, too… that I am what you want…" she retracted her finger and rested her hand on his chest.

-SS-

She hoped that he wanted her? Had he not made his desire for her as plain as could be? He had never wanted any other witch as badly as he wanted her. And he did not just want her in the way they had just shared, but in every way, always. But was he ready to tell her that? Was she ready to hear it?

He kissed her forehead and whispered, "There is nothing to hope for. You have me, and as I said earlier, I am yours to command."

She pulled back from him, her expression serious. "I don't want to command you, Severus. I want to love you. They are very, very different."

He gazed into her smoky topaz eyes for a few seconds and then replied, "And I want you, Hermione. I have never wanted anyone as much as I've wanted you."

With that, she smiled her brightest smile, nestled her head under his chin, and soon they had both fallen into a peaceful, dreamless sleep…

p

A/N: Aaaaanndd... FINALLY! Right? Am I right?! I had sooo much fun writing this chapter! Okay, so, as I promised, I delivered this chapter much, much sooner than the previous three. However, I'm going to ask you all to bear with me here because I have a lot of personal stuff going on and will be very busy, so it'll probably be another 5-7 days before I can get chap 5 up... but I hope this appeases you until then! Once again, thank you thank you thank you for your comments and support!


	29. Chapter 5 - Severus

Chapter 5

Severus

Severus awoke in a way he never had before—with a warm, naked witch in his arms and her unruly hair attempting to suffocate him. However, he was not at all perturbed. Instead he felt more peaceful than he had in a very long while. As gently as he could so as not to wake her he disentangled himself, though sad at the prospect of leaving her warmth, and sat up in his bed.

In the dim glow cast by the light of the moon shining through her bedroom window he could make out her form, partly concealed under thin sheets, the rest just as bare as she had been when they had both succumbed to slumber's calling. He let his eyes kiss her face, tranquil in its sleep, and then continued to admire her curves, her smooth skin splattered with freckles and tiny moles here and there, and the way her chest rose and fell calmly. He wondered if she was dreaming, and if so, whether he played any part in it.

She had told him that she had dreamed of being with him. " _Like I've stepped into one of the best dreams I could have ever dreamed"_ was what she had said to him just after they had made love. Made love? Was that what they had done? It had been driven by need, fueled by passion, and nothing like what he had seen and experienced before. Unlike her, he was not a virgin. No, the Dark Lord had made sure that his virginity was to be broken immediately after he had left Hogwarts. It was not something he had enjoyed more than physical pleasure. He had not taken the event and cherished it, nor had he found any desire to look back on it. It had not been with who he had wanted it to be with, he was resentful that the Dark Lord had required it of him, and it was nothing at all like what he and Hermione had just shared together. So, in a way, he was just as much a virgin as she was when it came to making love, and instead of being upset by that fact, he was pleased.

Severus knew he was in love with the young witch lying next to him. Though he had not said it aloud to her, he knew it in his heart to be true. He also knew that it still terrified him. Yet she had confessed to loving him the eve of her graduation. Was loving someone the same as being in love with them? He longed to think it was but knew his wonderings would not be eased unless he asked her directly; heard her profession of being in love with him from her own lips and not merely his imagination.

He also feared growing closer to her. Surely, she would want to know about his past, and his past was a topic he treated like his mother's grave—avoided it at all costs. His past was laid to rest as she was and should not be reawakened. And yet Hermione, being curious, would want to know it, and he was not sure he was ready to spread his sins out to her.

But she was what he wanted most in this world. Of course, that scared him as well, but it was an excited scared, like a quickening in his blood and a steady, warm rise in his stomach, not unpleasant, but welcomed. It was a feeling he had not had in many, many years, and he clung to it tightly. He was not ignorant, however. If he wanted her as completely as he felt he wanted her, they would need to talk; need to get to know each other in deeper ways than they had already. He couldn't help but wonder in trepidation if, once they began, would she continue to want him after she began to understand just how murky and bloody his past truly was? But he also knew not to underestimate her as he'd done in the past. Perhaps she already knew he had a dark past and had been preparing herself for it. But could anyone truly prepare themselves for a past such as his?

The small sigh that escaped through her lightly parted lips drew him out of his ponderings and back to admiring her slight form. _Was she bathing in the moon_ , he wondered, _or was the moon bathing her in_?

It was as his eyes trailed over her again that he realized he desperately needed the loo.

Apparently, at some point, he had discarded his wand somewhere last night without paying much attention. " _Lumos_ ," he whispered. The tip to his wand ignited. He spotted it over on the floor by her bedroom door. Stifling a yawn and a groan, he slid out of her bed and hobbled over to it. He picked it up and shined it around her room to locate her bathroom, which he soon found, and where he quickly relieved himself.

"Severus?" he heard a whisper just after he had silently vanished the contents of the toilet. He had tried to take every measure not to wake her, but apparently, she had noticed his absence anyway.

"In the loo," he said back, voice coming out low and hoarse.

A few moments later he saw her form padding over to the bathroom where she joined him to also relieve herself. Feeling self-conscious, he had turned to leave when he felt her grab his hand. She squeeze it gently. He stared down at her and, though she sat on the toilet, he didn't feel strange seeing her that way and she didn't seem ashamed or uncomfortable, either.

"For a moment I thought you had left," she admitted, barely above a whisper.

"I couldn't imagine willingly leaving such a beautiful, warm witch unless an emergency arose. In this instance, my bladder was complaining rather urgently. Fortunately, your bathroom was accommodating."

"It is fortunate, it could've decided you were unworthy," she retorted playfully.

"Apparently I am adequately worthy," he said back with a small smile.

"More than adequate, if I have any say in the matter."

They smiled at each other and then he heard the unmistakable sound of liquid tricking into the toilet. At the same time they both burst out laughing—she in her giggles, he in his low, rare rumble of mirth.

"What time is it?" she asked after their laughter had died down.

Severus cast a tempus charm and saw that it was just after four in the morning. "I suppose we should try to get more sleep before our morning classes?" he suggested.

"Will you stay?" she asked, somewhat shyly.

He looked down at her and squeezed her hand as she had squeezed his before. "Of course. Shall we retire back to your bed?"

Her smile lit up her face. "Absolutely."

They walked back to her bed together, her leading him by the hand and her naked form swaying seductively in front of him. He could feel himself beginning to become aroused again. _Merlin, I could get used to this_ , he thought and grinned to himself.

"Who knew being teachers together would be this rewarding?" His lover said, playfully. She spun around and trailed her fingers down his chest, following her hands with her eyes. Both her hands and eyes lingered when she noticed that he was becoming stiff again and he saw her smirk.

"I'm quite sure you are more than just my colleague," he whispered, feeling both self-conscious and aroused simultaneously.

Her eyes flickered up to his and she asked, feigning innocence, "So then, what am I?"

"You are a minx is what you are," he growled and then scooped her up into his arms. She giggled and kicked her legs as they toppled together onto her bed. He pushed her hair out of her face and looked into her eyes. "And, it would seem you are my lover."

"I supposed the term _girlfriend_ would sound to odd on your lips?" She waggled her eyebrows at him and grinned.

"Lover sounds sexier," he replied, invoking his low and husky baritone.

"It does, but…well…" suddenly she seemed nervous.

He cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Tell me what you're thinking, Hermione, please."

"Well, I just wondered…are you going to be, you know, _seeing_ other people?"

He balked. He couldn't help it. Had the young witch gone bonkers? She had been all he could think of for the past two years! And here she was asking if he was going to be sleeping around with other witches? Or, more importantly, perhaps she was asking just exactly what he expected from her?

"Your expression is causing me to feel like an idiot," she murmured, her face flushed and eyes averted.

"Forgive me, Hermione, you just completely through me in front of a herd of Hypogriffs there… To put it as plainly as I can, you are the only witch I desire to be in a relationship with, let alone desire to be with like this," and he gestured to the two of them in bed.

She raised her eyes and gave him a shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"If you need me to say that I would like to be in a monogamous relationship with you, then yes, Hermione, that is what I want…more than anything." He gave her a sneer and added, "Are you in agreements, or did you plan to have Weasley and his pet to join us for a night of sexual frivolity?"

She let out a small yip-like noise that caused his sneer to widen. "Great Merlin, no!"

He let out a bark of a laugh and leaned in to kiss her. She returned the kiss hungrily and he growled in surprise as she took his lower lip and nibbled it.

"If you keep that up," he warned, "I'm going to take you again right here right now and we will both be very tired for our classes."

She pulled back but smiled suggestively. Next moment, though, she had become embarrassed again. "I have another question…" she said, as if making a confession.

"Yes?"

"Was it…was I… gods, this isn't easy for me to ask." She sighed loudly. "Was I any good, erm, in bed?"

He would've balked again but caught himself this time. Cupping a cheek in each hand he gently forced her to look at his face. "Hermione, I am not a hard man to please when it comes to what we shared together. Yes, I've experienced it before, but believe me when I say that I am not overly experienced myself and what we shared together was the best I've ever had. Moreover, for it being your first time, you were incredible. I only hope that it felt as good for you as it did for me."

The smile that lit up her face could've shamed the celestial angels. "That's so good to hear, Severus. And yes, it was amazing to me. I'm surprised I didn't even have to stimulate myself and I still orgasmed. I wasn't sure if that would happen or not."

He let out a small chuckle. "Well, it's different for each woman, or so I've read, and it may not always happen. However, I will most certainly do whatever I can to help you enjoy our love making as much as I enjoy it. There's a lot we have to learn, but I'm more than willing."

She sighed with contentment and he watched as she began putting her hair up into a bun. "Don't mind me," she said, "Just feeling a bit hot is all. Putting my hair up cools me down a bit."

He nodded but as she turned away from him to reach for her wand he noticed something on her back he hadn't noticed before. "Hang on," he said, reaching out his hand and holding her still as he tilted his head to better see.

"Oh, that's right," he heard her say. "I forgot to tell you. I got a tattoo while in France."

Indeed, she had. He didn't have tattoos himself, for one since it was a rather Muggle form of art, and also because, after being branded with the Dark Mark, he hadn't liked the idea of any other marks branded into his body, magical or otherwise. The tattoo she had was rather lovely, though, he would admit. The style of the tattoo reminded him of the few watercolor paintings he had seen and, while it was black and white, it was beautifully done. The otter, though motionless, appeared to be swimming in water.

"Hopefully you don't mind it," she said, her tone wavering slightly as he continued to examine the piece of art without commenting.

"What made you choose an otter?" he asked after a moment, lightly touching the permanent ink with his thumb and tracing the shape of the water-loving creature.

"It was my first Patronus and I it reminds me of my past…like my past is now pulled out of me but still a part of me, if that makes sense. Besides, I always thought my otter was both lovely and cute," she explained.

"And do you plan to get more?" he asked, curiously.

"No, I don't think so. It didn't hurt as much as I thought, but I just can't think of anything else I'd want to get tattooed. My father had a tattoo of a flower in remembrance of his mother that he got sometime after she had passed away. I guess, because he had one, I felt like it would also add another thing onto our short list of things we have in common with each other."

"You and your father don't have much in common?" he asked as he continued to touch her back. He liked how her warm, smooth skin felt under his fingers. He liked her talking to him, as well.

"Only a few things, not as much as my mother and I do."

He couldn't think of what else to say or ask, so a silence befell between them, but unlike the ones they had shared in the past, this one felt more welcome, more comfortable. She leaned back into his hand and he continued to caress every inch of her he could reach.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss to the spot of skin under her right ear. "You are going to have so many students coming on to you," he whispered.

She giggled. "I doubt that."

"You can't be that naïve. You're young, only two or three years older than the seventh-year students. They're going to be all over you like—"

"I doubt I'll get many students coming on to me once they see me with the esteemed Potions Master," she interrupted. She turned to look back at him with a sly smile.

He felt his features fall. He stared into her eyes. "Hermione, about that…"

Her grin faded immediately. "I already know what you're going to say," she muttered.

"It's just…I think we should keep—us—on the quiet side until we've gotten used to our relationship together. If you don't agree, please tell me."

"I…understand. I just don't like secrets. They make everything harder." Instead of staring into his eyes she was staring down at his hands. He felt saddened that she was…uncomfortable? Disappointed? Both? But he was sure he didn't want them to immediately go public.

He attempted to assure her. "It won't have to be a secret for very long. Let us just try things out together before we announce to all of the wizarding world that we are in a relationship. After a few weeks we can revisit the subject, that is, if you don't get sick of me before then." He let humor slip into his voice but was still being serious. The _idea_ of them being a couple was nice, more than nice in his opinion, but if it was truly going to work? That was to be seen… "There are things we should…discuss…before we make our relationship known," he added.

"Things like…what?" she asked, her brown eyes never wavering from his. He still didn't understand how she made him so nervous. Could he really tell her those dark secrets about himself that only one other person knew?

Waiting for him to answer, she took her forefinger and middle finger and traced it along his left arm. He almost let out a sigh at her touch but restrained himself. Instead, he closed his eyes and just focused on what it felt like to be caressed by her. He felt her gently turn his arm so that his inner forearm was exposed up to her. Then he felt her trace the place he knew his Dark Mark to be. While it had faded and appeared to be more of a pinkish red scar than the skull and snake, he would always be able to feel exactly where it was. He still had the occasional feeling of dread and panic whenever he felt a sudden nerve twitch in his left forearm. It was something he would live with for the rest of his life.

"Do some of those _things_ have something to do with this?" she asked, continuing to caress his scar.

He took a deep breath. "I've done terrible things," he whispered.

"So have I," she whispered back.

"I was a Death Eater, Hermione. You have no idea of the atrocities I committed."

"Were forced to commit," the witch corrected, her face forming into a soft frown.

"I had to play my part convincingly. I know you understand what that means."

She nodded. "I do. And you don't need to confess to me all the acts you committed on our first date. It takes a while to get to know someone, and even longer to get to know their past. You have more of a past than I do, but that doesn't mean any of your flaws and wrong-doings are any greater than mine."

He smirked, again being unable to help himself from doing so. "I can assure you, love, my flaws and wrong-doings are _much_ greater than yours."

"Just because we have different wrong-doings doesn't mean they are any less or more _wrong_. It depends on the person. Your moral compass may have little guilt when it comes to lying to someone, whereas I may become sick and anxious with every lie I tell. I may have no problem breaking school rules if it means saving my friends, but you may feel guilty every time you have an unprofessional thought about me in, say, the Headmistress' presence, whereas I can tell you I have no guilt in that matter at all." She smiled slyly. "The fact is this; you have committed morally questionable acts, yet so have I. And I can concoct as many atrocities as I want when thinking of your past. But I didn't fall in love with your past self. I fell in love with the you your past helped to create."

He sat still, dumbfounded, and tried to let her words sink in. What she said made sense, and yet she couldn't possibly have imagined everything he had done over the last twenty years.

She seemed to register the incredulousness on his face because she said, very matter-of-factly, "Look, I read the spells you made in your sixth year. Not only were you incredibly smart, so much so that I found myself jealous of you, but I also knew that you were dangerous and clearly coming from a bad place. But if you had that kind of malice and talent in you at 16 or 17 years old… I know Voldemort could've used you for his cause."

Severus opened his mouth, but she continued as if she hadn't noticed. "And, yes, you may have been a Death Eater, but you chose to betray them. For a majority of your time as a Death Eater, you were betraying Voldemort and putting your life at risk. You could have stopped at any point in time. You could have either told Dumbledore you didn't want to do it anymore, or you could have told Voldemort the truth. But you didn't do either. You chose to do whatever you had to do to see Voldemort fall; chose even to betray your friends, because of love and commitment to Lily and what she believed in. And I know you have love in you, Severus. I know you love me, even though you won't say it. I know you're afraid to let it show, and that's okay."

He had become agitated more and more with each word she said. He didn't want to talk about Voldemort or Dumbledore. He didn't want to talk about his love and commitment to Lily. He just wanted to move on. "Are you calling me a coward?" he spat, forgetting for an instance that they were both naked in bed together and had just made love a few hours before.

She gaped at him and he saw her pupils dilate as her eyes widened in shock. When she found her voice again and softened her expression she asked, "Do you think I'd ever call you that, let alone think that of you, after all you've done? You helped to save my life, whether you realize that or not. If Voldemort had won, I would be dead, or worse."

"I didn't do it for you."

The edges of her lips fell slightly, but his words didn't aggravate her as much as he thought they would. "I know you didn't," she replied. "But your actions effected more people than you could ever imagine. I think you and I both know that it wasn't just your love for Harry's mom that caused you to work towards Voldemort's downfall."

"Do we, now?" He tried not to smirk but failed.

"What Voldemort and his followers ultimately stood for...the death, the torture, the dehumanization of muggles and muggle-borns... you knew that wasn't right."

He tilted his head, the small smirk widening, but not cruelly. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered at the fact you have taken so much time to analyze why I played spy for so long, or annoyed that you presume to have the correct answers though I have never expressed said answers directly to you."

"Then correct me if I'm wrong. _Educated me_ ," she challenged. He didn't miss the slightly seductive quality to her tone.

 _Such a minx_ , he thought to himself.

Continuing to smirk he said, "First, I need you to understand that I do not like Muggles. Of all the ones I have interacted with, I have experienced nothing but either pain upon myself or pity towards them. However, Lily's existence proved to me that Muggle-born witches and wizards were not like their Muggle parents and siblings, or at least, not like the Muggles I had known and been around. And though she changed my perception, she didn't change the fact that I believed myself to be smarter than most— _better_ than most, and especially better than those without magic. And with that knowledge came the thirst for power, as I once told you I had craved in my youth. And I was given the opportunity for power, and for acceptance, with the Death Eaters, as I told you before. But then I was given _more_ power by having the opportunity to betray the Dark Lord and, ultimately, avenge Lily's death. And while, yes, I did not entirely agree with the Death Eater's way, I cannot hide the fact that I am _not_ a pleasant person. I did not feel much grief when random Muggles were attacked or killed. I, too, in my youth, believed that we should be held above Muggles, but because of Lily, I never agreed at being above Muggle-borns, no matter what I told my fellow Death Eaters." Severus paused, wondering how much to say next.

Sighing, he continued, "My adolescence was… extremely unpleasant, and the things I saw and heard in that adolescence, and then later the things I had chosen to do because of that adolescence..." He trailed off. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how long I gave my will to two masters, no matter how hard I tried to avenge Lily and keep her only son safe, I cannot go back and change what I have experienced and what I have done. I cannot rewrite those years of my life. And I cannot alter how I let them effect me."

"But you can choose how you move forward from them," his witch said, just above a whisper.

Severus studied her for a while and she held his gaze, resolutely. He tilted his head slightly and whispered back, "I believe that is what I am... trying... to do now."

"Why didn't you try before? During my last year?"

He sighed again and closed his eyes. "As I told you once before, it takes time to convince oneself of certain things, and you were my student..." He trailed off and opened his eyes to meet hers. "But believe me, I have more of a reason to try now than I did when you were still under my tutelage."

"Severus, I—" she broke off and took a deep breath, as if it pained her to say what she wanted to say. "I don't want to be your reason for trying. If I'm your reason… you'll fail."

Her statement impressed him, but it was unnecessary. "You misunderstand me, Hermione. My motivation to be better is my own. What I meant was… now I have someone who I care about who, I also know, I don't want to hurt, but more importantly, someone who I believe cares for me, too. That is a very good reason to make the effort to be… better."

"Well, will you let me help you, like you once helped me?" She trailed her fingers over his hand and lightly touched the tips of his fingers. He felt his skin crawling in delight at her tender touch, and at the offer she made.

"It seems as if you propose to tutor me," he replied, teasingly.

"Or, rather, I'm proposing to love you, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally... if you'll let me."

He paused and then asked, "Hermione… are you, truly, in love with me?"

She smiled at him. It was the smile that had made his heart swoon ever since he first saw it. He stared at her bright eyes as she replied, "I've been in love with you for a while now, Severus. More importantly, I _want_ to be in love with you, because I love you."

He stared into her eyes and they held each other steady, like an unbreakable rod was slicing through them, connecting them together and holding them firmly in place.

No, not a rod, and not slicing. But a cloak, wrapping around them and encouraging them to stay there, as they were, or to move closer, but to never part.

"Then… I think your proposal would be agreeable," he whispered. Then he grasped her hand and drew her closer to him, practically pulling her naked body into his welcoming lap. She smiled again and, instead of holing back as he had to for so long, he acted on his desires.

He brought his lips to hers and surrendered to their magic.

A/N: Okay, guys, here is chapter 5... I'm so, so, sooo sorry it took this long, and I'm also apologizing in advance because I know each chapter from here on out will be slow to update... please don't be mad, but life is just really throwing me for a loop right now and I'm doing my best. Anyway, I hope you find some enjoyment in this chapter and can appreciate the conversation that our two lovebirds have with one another. Thank you, always, for your continuous support!


	30. Chapter 6 - Hermione

Chapter 6

Hermione

She was perturbed that he wasn't willing to go public right away, and she wasn't finished talking with him about it, but she knew that there was a right time and a wrong time to discuss the subject. And at the present, kissing him was more important than anything else. It had been what she had longed for every moment they had been apart, and now she had him, she wasn't going to let him slip away if she could help it.

She knew he was probably still nervous, quite possibly afraid, and clearly had trepidations about whether they would work as a couple. She couldn't fault him for that, but she hoped that his confidence would grow quickly. Maybe some more snogging, love-making and talking could help with that.

They had never put their clothes back on, so as they kissed they began to roll around on the bed together and their naked skin pressed together everywhere it could. Her lover was clearly aroused again, and she was beginning to feel the same as his hands traveled up and down her back and legs in loving caresses.

He flipped her over onto her back and kissed the tip of her nose, each cheek, her chin, and then moved lower down the rest of her front, lingering on each nipple and sucking them to nice, round, perky pink buds.

"Lower," Hermione whispered to him.

Severus chuckled into the skin between her breasts. He trailed his tongue down lower and circled her belly button.

" _Lower_ ," she said again, and it came out as a small growl as she arched her back slightly.

He chuckled into her skin again. "I thought you weren't going to command me?"

Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair and asked, slyly, "Are you implying that you don't _want_ to taste me? You seemed eager to a few hours ago."

"So it's not commanding if I am willing?"

His tone was still light, so she knew he wasn't being entirely serious, but she decided to answer honestly. "Well, I suppose it still is, but you could always refuse. I may command you, sexually, but I'll never _insist_ you to do something you don't want to do."

She watched him as he looked up at her, his dark eyes a pleasant contrast against her light skin. "And I likewise," he replied, holding her gaze steadily. "If I ever cause you to feel uncomfortable, please tell me."

She put a finger to his lips as she had done before and smirked at him. "I will. Now, enough talk," and she proceeded to gently push his head down as she lifted her naked pelvis up towards him.

"Since when did you become so confident?" he murmured into her warmth.

"Since I've got you where I want you," she whispered back, and he dragged his tongue across her inner thigh.

Severus's wet mouth on her warmth was better than any of her fantasies...because it was real. Soon he had her head spinning and her mouth moaning as she quickly climaxed.

Once she had calmed, and once Severus had summoned a glass of water and drained it, Hermione sat up and kissed him passionately. Her hand found its way to his hard member and she stroked it with fervor; she wanted to give him the same pleasure he had just given her.

Her lover let out a low hum of pleasure from the back of his throat. Without giving him any warning, she broke away from his mouth and brought her soft, wet lips down over his shaft. She swirled her tongue over his tip a few quick times and then engulfed as much as she could into her mouth and began a steady rhythm of sucking. She felt him move her hair to one side of her back and he began to stroke her exposed neck and shoulders, letting out contented sighs and quiet moans as she continued her ministrations.

"Hermione, lie on your back," he instructed a few minutes later, with a noticeably softer tone than his normal teaching voice.

She complied but couldn't help but wonder why he had stopped her. It had felt like he was getting close to climaxing, so why would he have interrupted her?

Her question was almost immediately answered when he slid his red, swollen member between her legs and began rocking his hips back and forth. His speed quickened and within minutes he was arching his back and crying out with his climax.

He had wanted to come inside her again, not her mouth. Unsure if he chose to do that for her own comfort or for his, she mentally told herself to ask him at a later time. She wasn't opposed to letting him cum in her mouth, but she did prefer this. Yet, she didn't want him to hold back on his own desires...

He flopped down beside her and the next thing she remembered was him pulling the cold sheet over them both. Then she was falling into a peaceful slumber alongside him.

Hermione woke to soft lips pressed against her forehead.

"You best get dressed now, love. Your first class starts in an hour."

She could not have been gladder to have woken up to that voice. Opening her eyes, she saw that Severus was leaning over her, already dressed in his black slacks and white dress shirt. His black hair fell to the sides of his face and his dark eyes were smiling, even though his mouth was smirking. Feeling giddy at the sight of him, she tilted her head up and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Don't tempt me to keep you here," he said in the husky baritone she was beginning to fall in love with even more than his normal professor's baritone.

"You wouldn't dare pass up the chance to cause a bunch of students to tremble at the knees and feel like idiots," she replied, leaning back and grinning up at him.

"Oh, I would, if it meant having you again."

She practically shivered with pleasure at his words.

"Well, unfortunately for us, I don't want to _call in sick_ on the fourth day of the term. Wouldn't seem very professional, you know. Also, I do wish to keep my job."

"Ah, yes, you must keep your job, so you only have to walk down a few stairs and hallways to get a good shag." His tone was playful and so she played along with him.

"Or to sit back and wait until you come beginning me for more," she retorted. She had been running her hand through his hair and yanked on it with her last word.

He responded with a growl. "What did I say about tempting me?"

"Am I not allowed to touch you?" Hermione asked, feigning innocence.

He chuckled and righted himself. "Get dressed, young professor. I barely got to see you undress last night, I'd like to savor watching you get dressed this morning."

That made her blush, but she threw off the blankets of her bed and headed towards the restroom. "Shower first," she told him, then added with a sly smile, "Care to join me, Professor Snape?"

His eyes seemed to burn hot with desire, but he shook his head curtly. "I've already showered, Professor Granger, but perhaps tomorrow morning, if you would consent to setting an alarm. I couldn't bear to wake you up sooner, as tranquil as you looked."

Not wanting to waste any time spent with him, she limited her shower to the necessities, and wrangled her rowdy hair up into a bun afterwards. She wrapped her fuzzy blue bathrobe around her and when she came out of the bathroom she saw that her bedroom door was ajar and that he was lounging on her sitting room's couch.

She approached him, and as he turned to look at her, he smirked and asked, "So. You were jealous of me?"

She remembered what she had said the evening before, about his knowledge of potions and the spells he created in his old potions textbook. "I was jealous of whoever the author of all those scribbles were. I didn't know it had been yours until Harry knew that it was you who had written in the potions textbook. And don't forget, when I did finally find out it had belonged to you, we had all thought you were a murderer, and Harry hated you."

"Well aren't you the brightest ray of sunshine in the morning. Do you need some coffee?" He asked, and she could tell he was trying to keep it playful, but his tone had taken on a harder quality than before.

Not wanting to bring up that piece of his past, at least not at the present moment, she sauntered over to him and straddled his lap, which immediately caused a grin to cross his features instead of a carefully controlled smirk. "Yes, a part of me was very jealous," she conceded. "I had achieved learning many spells at that age, but I hadn't yet created any of my own. In fact, it wasn't until I was eighteen that I succeeded in creating my first spell, and the spells I conjured were more for practical, every-day use, rather than for heroism or, in your case, sadistic pleasure."

His eyebrows raised, and his hands came to rest on her hips where his fingers immediately squeezed her upper buttocks. "So I'm a sadist, now, am I?" he asked, the playfulness fully returned.

"You _were_ —it's to be seen if you still are." She kissed him, and he kissed her back.

When they broke apart he said, "Well, I have a confession that might surprise you."

"Oh?"

"I felt similarly about you." He ran one of his hands along the back of her exposed neck.

"You…thought I was sadistic?"

He chuckled as his left hand gripped as much of her right butt-cheek as it could which, surprisingly, was quite a lot. "You might be, the way you torture me so, but that is not what I meant. I felt similarly in the aspect of jealousy."

"You…were jealous…of me?" Now Hermione was truly confused. The sadistic part she felt she could understand more than this genius of a wizard ever being jealous of her.

"Not jealous, exactly. More…surprised and intrigued. You solved my logic riddle in your first year, brewed Polyjuice Potion in your second, were responsible with a Time Turner in your third year and did who-knows-what to continue to help save Potter's skin for the next five years. While I do admit he is not completely useless, I am quite sure he would've died without you being his friend."

"And I set your cloak on fire in my first year, figured out that Slytherin's monster was a Basilisk which, honestly, is pretty obvious now that I think about it, in my second year, discovered that Remus was a werewolf after your lesson on werewolves and disarmed you in my third year, and yeah, as you said, did quite a lot to help save Harry over the next five years."

"YOU set my cloak on fire during the Quidditch match?!" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"You seriously didn't know that? You walked in on me playing the piano with a floating ball of fire as my choice of light. How did it _not_ click in that brilliant brain of yours that I have a slight affinity with fire? I mean, I may not be a redhead, but still… And, I was thoroughly convinced you were trying to kill Harry."

"You little minx!" Severus growled. "I was trying to save him!" He furiously began nibbling Hermione all over her shoulders, neck and face as she squealed and squirmed in partial protest, partial giddiness.

Finally, when they were both panting heavily and smiling from ear to ear, Hermione leaned back on his lap kissed his nose. "I just thought of a question."

"When are you _not_ thinking of questions?" he teased.

Hermione ignored his quip. "Why did you leave your potions book in the potions classroom? Why not keep it as your own? I mean, wasn't it obvious that eventually someone would find it?" She tucked some of his hair behind his right ear.

"Perhaps that was the point," he replied.

She frowned. "You _wanted_ someone to find it?"

He mimicked her movement, taking his hand and tucking a strand of curly hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear. "Firstly, to be caught with that book in my seventh year would have been unwise on my part. It was needed for my sixth year, not seventh, and my seventh year was also when I had joined the Death Eaters. As being affiliated with the Death Eaters was to go against the Ministry _and_ Dumbledore, I wanted no one to know I was one of Voldemort's followers. To be found with that book, in which very controversial spells were written in my scrawl, was a sure way to be singled out as a Death Eater, or at least to be under suspicion of being one. So, I abandoned it in my seventh year and, if another student found it, so be it. They'd be caught with it, not I."

Hermione frowned. Severus had joined Voldemort while he had still been in school? That she found surprising, but not as surprising as his choice to risk some other innocent student stumbling upon it, as Harry had himself. "You didn't care that someone else could possibly get in trouble if they were found with it?"

Hermione had expected for him to sigh in agitation, or shake his head with a sneer, but instead he met her eyes with a melancholy expression. "I was an angst-driven, angry teenage boy who had very little true friends at Hogwarts, and it was unlikely any of them would discover the book. Simply put, Hermione, I didn't care much for people I didn't know, and cared even less for most of those I did know who I did not consider to be my friends. I didn't care about the 'innocent bystander' like you would have at that age. We come from much different backgrounds."

She thought about his words for a few long moments, then nodded in acceptance. She couldn't change who he had been or what had been done to him. "I understand, Severus." She kissed the tip of his nose as she had done when he had awoken her. "But, you signed the book as the Half-blood Prince. Weren't you nervous someone would recognize the nickname?"

He chuckled, his eyes closing for a moment longer than they normally would have, and she took that to mean he was content, even with the current topic of conversation. She bounced slightly on his lap with the movements his deep laughter caused. "Hermione, my sweet, no one ever knew I even had a nickname. I chose the name for myself, but never told another living soul about it. In fact, you and your friends may be the only ones who know."

"Hmmmm," Hermione hummed in response, trying to remember how many people she, Harry and Ron had told about Severus being the Half-blood Prince. Oddly enough, she didn't remember telling anyone other than Ginny, but she couldn't say the same for the boys, with their big mouths…

Severus yanked her out of her ponderings as he stood and brought her up with him. Surprised, she wrapped her legs and arms around him and giggled. "Some warning next time, please!"

"Perhaps I enjoy startling you," he whispered into her ear. "Now, let's get you dressed." And he strode, with her wrapped around him, back into her room, where he then placed her gently, but decidedly, in front of her wardrobe. Then he walked to her bed, sat on its edge, and never took his eyes away from her body as she began to pull out clothing items to wear for the day.

"You, Severus Snape, I'm nearly positive, will always be able to surprise and astonish me," Hermione assured him as she let her bathrobe fall unceremoniously to pool around her feet.

"And you, Hermione Granger, will never cease to astound me with your—" he seemed to be searching for the right word. As she tossed her head over her shoulder to smirk at him, he said, " _Abilities_."

Hermione loved the way his dark eyes burned for her.

Hermione's first class of the day were Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first-years, which would be followed by a group of Hufflepuff and Slytherin fifth-years. She hoped that Severus was in as good of a mood as she was. Even though she had few students who were gossiping during her lesson, or practicing jinxes under their desks, it seemed that nothing could bring her down from her high of happiness.

Unlike when she was still a student herself, when she would spend her free time daydreaming and thinking about Severus, now she faced two conflicting emotions when she was away from him: was everything that had transpired the night before and earlier that morning likely to continue, and when was her next chance of getting the sultry Potions Master on his own? Hermione knew her longing to be with him wasn't just about the amazing sex, or the snogging, but more importantly, it was the longing to just _be_ with him, for that was what she cherished most, and also happened to be the only way to prove to him that they would make a good couple.

Her two morning classes went by relatively quickly, most likely due to her high spirits, and soon the students and staff had their break for lunch. She enjoyed the polite hellos and shy (sometimes bordering on reverent) nods of recognition in her direction from students and staff alike as she walked through the castle's halls. Her younger self would not have guessed that she would be walking down these halls as a professor at the young age of twenty—nearly twenty-one—but her current self felt that this was the right choice to make; that it was the right place to be and the right career to have regardless of her younger self's ambitions and goals.

She noticed that Severus wasn't in the Great Hall when she arrived, so she decided to grab some lunch for them both and seek him out. She knew he was most likely in his private lab, so that's where she headed first. With her wand raised, she retrieved two plates of food and two cups of tea and expertly levitated their lunch from the Great Hall and made her way down to the dungeons.

"Professor, where are you off to for lunch?"

Hermione turned away from the corridor that lead down to the dungeons in time to see Mrs. Weasley entering the main hall from the grounds. The witch was smiling, but her heart didn't seem to be in it as it usually did.

"Professor Weasley, it's good to see you. I was just heading down to find Professor Snape," Hermione replied. "I know you were out yesterday, is everything alright?"

Mrs. Weasley approached the younger witch with a somber expression. "Oh, Hermione," the elder whispered. She took hold of Hermione's free hand and squeezed it gently. The younger witch could see that the older witch's eyes were watery. "A tragic, tragic event has happened… our dear Fleur…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off.

Hermione felt her blood run cold. "Fleur? What happened? Is she okay? And Bill?"

"Bill's fine, dear, they're both as well as they can be considering…" Again, she trailed off.

"Should we head to your office? We could talk there—" Hermione began to suggest, but Mrs. Weasley cut her off.

"Oh, not now, Hermione, I see that you and Severus have a lunch date. But… if it's not too much trouble, could you come by my office later, say around eight o'clock or so this evening?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. I'll see you at eight."

"It's Molly, dear." Mrs. Weasley said and she gently touched Hermione's cheek in an affectionate, motherly gesture.

"I'll see you tonight, Molly," Hermione said, giving the motherly witch a small smile. Then she watched as Mrs. Weasley bustled off towards the Great Hall. When the witch's red hair was fully out of sight, Hermione turned back towards the dungeons.

Hermione wondered what it was that could've happened to Fleur… from what she knew, Fleur was still working part-time at Gringotts, and it didn't seem likely that she'd experience anything dangerous there… unless she had lost her job, perhaps? Or maybe she and Bill were having trouble with their marriage? Her mind was whirling with so many questions that she found herself standing outside of Severus's private lab without realizing her feet had lead her there so quickly.

Sighing, and trying to bring back the happiness she had felt before her run-in with Mrs. Weasley, she knocked on his door. It flew open at once, almost as if he had been expecting her, and perhaps he had. She walked through with the plates and cups still flying in front of her and her face immediately broke out into a grin when she made out his form, hunched over a cauldron, his black hair tied back so it wouldn't obstruct his eyesight.

She imagined planting kisses along his right jawline, then his left.

Without looking up he said, "You are incredibly predictable, Professor Granger."

Hermione smirked even though he wasn't looking at her. "I could leave now, if that would be less predictable."

His head was still bent towards the cauldron, but his eyes flickered up at her. She stopped short, momentarily stunned by the smoldering darkness his gaze held. There had been a time when she thought he would never look at her that way…she still found it unbelievable that he was there, now, looking at her the same way a prowling Wampus would watch its prey.

"While that would be less predictable, I would not enjoy it nearly as much as I enjoy watching your skin crawl under my observation." The corner of his lip was beginning to curl.

Hermione let out a huff, slightly embarrassed for him having noticed the effect he had on her. She forced herself to move closer to him and with her wand she guided the two plates and cups onto the table closest to where he worked.

"Are you hungry or not?" she asked, feigning frustration.

He chuckled, and she felt her heart leap at the sound.

"Perhaps," he answered. "Although I am intent on finishing this potion. Would you care to be of use?"

She huffed again, continuing to act annoyed with him. "Only if it means we'll get to eat sooner rather than later." She came to stand beside him and, after examining his notes, she began to crush the pine needles and porcupine quills. They worked quietly next to one another, but every other minute or so she'd find an excuse to gently brush up against him.

He didn't react until he was nearly finished with the final steps of the potion. It was as she walked past him to clean out the mortar that she let her left hand brush up against his lower back, right above the lining of his trousers. He spun on her quicker than she was prepared for and she nearly dropped the mortar, but saved it by clutching it to her just as he grabbed her arm and yanked her into his chest.

"If you test my patience, Professor, you will suffer the consequences." His voice came out as a deadly hiss, but in his eyes she saw the same smoldering desire from before.

His lips were pressed to hers the next moment and it was as if Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs were exploding behind her eyelids. She nearly collapsed into his arms as the kissing intensified and she felt his strong hands grasping her elbows to keep her steady, but his ministrations did not cease. Their lips were locked, and their tongues were dancing around one another, tasting and feeling and making new discoveries all the while. She tasted peppermint and coffee. She felt how one of his canines was sharper than the others. She realized how immensely she enjoyed it when his tongue slid along her lower lip. For those few minutes, which felt like hours to her, she was enjoying a slice of Heaven.

He pulled back and she could hear him breathing heavily. She, too, was gasping for air, and as her eyes fluttered open and landed on his parted lips she saw his own were much more red and swollen than normal.

 _Who would have thought I'd ever see Severus Snape like this_? She asked herself. Seeing him naked was one thing. Seeing him flushed from a snogging escapade was another story entirely.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Professor?" He asked her, his tone low and husky.

"I'm going to need to test your patience a lot more often," she replied, nearly breathless.

He smiled and then kissed her forehead. "Well, if you could test my patience after I finish this potion, that would be preferable, as Madam Pomfrey is expecting this within the next hour."

Hermione let out a giggle. "Fine, fine. I'll help you finish your potion. Then, if you're lucky, I'll test your patience some more."

He chuckled again, and they turned back to the work bench and potion. Hermione's heart was still tapdancing and her cheeks were still red and sight still slightly fuzzy.

It was just as they were finishing the last step—adding Gerbera jamesonii petals to the potion—that Hermione thought again of Mrs. Weasley and what she had said about Fleur. The petals matched the color of the Weasley's hair almost perfectly and Hermione felt her stomach lurch with worry. She must've looked concerned because when Severus turned to look at her his eyebrows furrowed.

"Is there something wrong, Hermione?" he asked, his expression serious and his eyes full of concern.

"Yes, actually. It's about Fleur. Fleur Weasley."

"Fleur? The same Fleur who was the champion from Beauxbatons Academy?" he asked, his curiosity clearly peaked.

"Yes, she and Bill Weasley have been married three years now," Hermione explained, in case he had not known of their wedding.

"Ah, yes, I remember the ambush on the Weasley's home…" he trailed off, looking somewhat sheepish.

Hermione, not wanting to think of that night, nor wanting him to linger on the memory of it either, said quickly, "Yes, well, Mrs. Weasley—er, Molly—hinted that something was wrong with Fleur. I'm supposed to see Molly tonight to talk with her about it over a cup of tea in her office."

"And you're worried about what she will tell you?"

"I have to admit I am, mainly because I just can't imagine what it could be." And that was the truth. If Hermione had at least some idea, some suspicion, of what could be wrong, she wouldn't feel so worried about not knowing for certain. But because she had _no idea_ what the matter could be, she felt uneasy.

"I have an idea."

She felt her eyebrows raise with surprise as she turned to look into his eyes. "You…you do?"

"You said they've been married three years now? Well, do they have any children?"

"Not yet, no." Then, slightly nervous, she asked, "Why?"

"Well… they could be trying to have a baby." He broke eye contact with her and began syphoning the finished potion into vials. "If Bill is anything like his mother and father, it would be safe to assume he'd want children, and three years after a wedding is a decent amount of time to figure out if they want kids or not, and to start trying."

"I don't… Severus, are you implying that…" For some reason Hermione couldn't bring herself to voice the words she knew he was thinking.

"Look at us, what are we talking about this for?" A change had come over him. He had become tense and wouldn't look her in the eyes. "It could be nothing—you know Molly does tend to over-exaggerate sometimes." He sealed the vials and levitated the now empty cauldron over to the cleaning station where Hermione had placed the mortar earlier. "Why don't you put it out of your mind until you hear from Molly directly later this evening? There's no use speculating now and getting anxious."

Hermione frowned, unwilling to drop the subject so immediately. But then Severus turned back to her, stepped closer to her, and leaned forward to kiss her neck, just below her left jawline. His posture had ceased to be tense and was again relaxed. As he continued to kiss her neck she felt her train of thoughts begin to derail and leaned her head back to allow him more access.

"We still haven't eaten lunch yet…" she whispered as he continued to kiss her, his lips traveling farther along her neck.

"I don't know about you, but I'm quite hungry for something other than sandwiches and crisps right now."

He brought his lips to hers again and they began to move as they kissed. She pushed against him and he complied to her movement, backing himself up against a desk behind the work bench. With him now pressed securely between the desk and herself, Hermione pressed her pelvis, hips and breasts flush up against his front. She could feel him hardening in response and she smiled as they kissed.

A sound, what was unmistakably a loud cough, came from behind Hermione. Both she and Severus jumped apart as if electrocuted.

Hermione spun around in time to see Headmistress McGonagall standing just inside the doorway to Severus's private lab and staring directly at the pair of them.

A/N: I know, I KNOW, it's been over a month... I'm super sorry to all of my readers. May was chaotic, and things just began to continue to escalate into June and July. It's also looking like August will also continue to be a chaotic month for me as well, especially since I start a new job AND a new semester of my master's program. But, please know that I have not given up on this story, and will never give up on this pairing. Hermione and Severus are one of the few ships that is allowing me to build my creativity. I hope this chapter is enjoyable and, again, I do promise to continue posting, it just might be a while in between posts, and for that, again, I am sorry. Thank you also to all of my new follows and faves since I've been MIA! It means the world to me that this story has gotten such good reception!


	31. Chapter 7 - Il Mangiatore Di Morte

Chapter 7

Il Mangiatore Di Morte

(The Death Eater)

Severus froze, but only after having flung himself away from Hermione as if she were a Venomous Tentacula. In that moment, his heart had lodged itself in his throat, but upon seeing the near-amused expression on Minerva's face, he immediately resumed his ever-calm and contained demeanor.

"Apologies, Headmistress. I did not hear you enter my lab." He was purposefully ignoring Hermione as if she weren't even there.

"I understand, Severus. I was surprised myself to find the door having been left ajar."

Severus was tempted to shoot Hermione a look of outrage at her idiotic blunder—not thinking to close and reward his lab—but thought better of it and decided to continue to pretend she wasn't in the same room. "Is there something I can do for you, Minerva?" He asked, not quite concealing a hint of annoyance slipping into his tone. Never before had he been caught off guard by Minerva, not even during their legendary duel, and never before had he been caught _snogging a fellow professor_ by said witch, either.

"I intended to speak with you about some changes to this year's curriculum, but I can see you are otherwise occupied." Her lips curved up into a small smirk and Severus very nearly growled at the enjoyment the elder witch was undoubtedly receiving under the current circumstances. "Why don't you join me in my office after dinner tonight, please." Then the Headmistress turned to Hermione and said, with a polite smile, "Hermione, I hope your classes have been going well."

Severus couldn't believe how vexatious the older witch was being! She could have been laughing out loud at the both of them, the way her eyes twinkled and mouth once again turned into a small smirk. Still, both Hermione and Severus were unable to do more than give the elder witch a nod of assent.

Minerva reached the door to his lab, but before disappearing into the corridor she turned and said, very clearly, "Don't be so embarrassed, you two. It's not really as surprising as you think."

They watched her leave and close the door behind her, both speechless.

Neither of them spoke at first, and all that could be heard was a bubbling potion on the other side of the room, and the distant sounds of students leaving the Great Hall to head to their next classes.

"I… have to get ready for my next class," He heard Hermione say quietly.

Severus allowed himself to glance at her and, thought at first his face was molded into a scowl, as soon as she saw her concerned look; the biting of the corner of her lips, her hands balled into tight fists, reddened cheeks, and her eyes averted from his and focused on the stone floor, he felt his features soften. She had been embarrassed just as much as he had been.

Still not looking up at him, she said, still in the small and quiet voice, "I'm sorry I forgot to ward your door. I…" she faltered. "Please, when you see Minerva tonight, let her know that I am very…ashamed she witnessed that. It was very unprofessional of me."

"Of us," Severus added, keeping his voice low and calm. As she looked up at him and tentatively met his eyes he continued, "It was unprofessional of _us_. We just need to be more careful, that is all." He gave her a small smile, hoping that she would understand he wasn't angry with her.

She returned his smile and said, "I am sorry, Severus."

He crossed the room towards her and as he did so he took out his wand, flicked it towards the door to ensure it was locked and warded, and then took her hands in his. "This is all new to us. We are both at fault for our carelessness."

Her eyes found his and he watched as a small smile light up her face. "I thought for sure you were going to call me an idiot and tell me to leave," she whispered.

He sighed, taking a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear, so elated that he could touch her like this without having a furious battle raging inside of him. "I was tempted to, and nearly did, but then something occurred to me…"

When he didn't finished, she asked, "And what was that?"

He bent his head down and kissed her forehead, taking time to let his lips linger on her skin and to breathe in the sweet scent of her shampoo and body wash mingled with sweat. Barely pulling his lips away from her skin, he answered, "It occurred to me that I didn't want you to leave."

 _I never want her to leave_ , he thought to himself, but could not muster the courage to say it aloud. Not yet, at least.

She leaned into him, tilting her head up as she did so, and kissed the inside of his neck, right under his jawline. He felt a shiver of pleasure travel down his spine and shoot straight to his groin. Merlin and Morgana, he wanted her again. Right then and there.

He placed his hands over her hips, readying himself to spin her around and push her down over the desk.

The bell rang.

Severus let out a deep, guttural growl of annoyance. "Damn that infernal bell."

Hermione giggled—he was pleased to know that, even in her maturing, she still allowed herself to giggle—and kissed his neck again. When she pulled back she said, "Don't curse the bell, my dear Severus. It's there to keep us on track. We wouldn't want a bunch of _ years showing up to their Potions class and having to stand outside waiting for their professor to show up for, oh, I don't know, twenty minutes?" Her eyes shone impishly.

" _Twenty_ minutes? I find that you are mistaken, pet, for it would be at least _an hour_ before I was satisfied with having my way with you."

He watched as her cheeks reddened and, unable to help himself, he hiked up her skirt, pulled down her undergarments, and rubbed two of his fingers on her soft cunt, which he was pleased to find was drenched in her sweet nectar.

She had snapped her eyes closed as soon as he touched her sensitive spot and was now breathing heavily, her lips parted, and her cheeks were definitely flushed. He closed his eyes too and let out a groan of longing as he slipped a finger inside of her. His cock twitched, aching to be between her legs and inside of her as his finger was now.

"Severus," she moaned in a whisper, which almost sounded like a whimper.

He extracted his finger and watched her eyes snap back open, a hungry and feral look inside of them, which made his cock twitch again. He brought his soaked finger up to his nose and breathed in her scent, never breaking eye contact with her as he did so.

Then he lowered his hand and with his other took her face and cupped it, bringing her lips to meet his. They kissed deeply, their tongues swirling around and dancing. He forced himself to pull back though she continued to lean into him. He chuckled and said, "Come, Professor Granger, our students await."

And, forcing himself to step away from her and around her, he strode towards the door and left his private lab without another look back at her.

-HG-

Hermione was disgruntled, but also intrigued. If Severus wanted to play hard to get, she could play right along with him. And, seeing as how they had already been walked in on by the Headmistress and it was only the first week of classes, playing hard to get during the day might be their safest course of action. Hermione knew Severus would be mortified (inwardly so more than outwardly) if any student caught them so much as holding hands together. While Hermione didn't care so much if the other professors knew, she had to admit to herself that for the students to know wouldn't be very professional at this point in their relationship. Maybe, if they got engaged, but…

Hermione had to stop herself there. Severus wasn't yet willing to go public. There was no reason for her to already think of engagement. She wouldn't let her romantic notions get away with her. Firstly, because she didn't want to scare him away; and secondly, because she knew that rushing into anything would not bode well for either of them.

Nevertheless, it took all of Hermione's mental effort not to think about how amazing his tongue in her mouth felt during her next class, which was a group of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw fifth years. Luckily, one of the students, Albert Griffin, unfortunately a Gryffindor, accidentally gave himself a black eye when he summoned one of the candles on the wall instead of the pillows they were practicing with. This gave Hermione plenty to focus on for the last fifteen minutes of the lesson. While Hermione was tempted to cast _Episky_ to heal Mr. Griffin's eye, she knew it better to send the boy to Madam Pomfrey. Healing students during lessons was frowned upon, according to McGonagall.

Her next class, again fifth years but Hufflepuffs an Slytherins this time, proved more difficult to banish thoughts of her dark lover from her mind. Both the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were well-behaved and had no problems with summoning their pillows.

Then she had a group of NEWT students, sixth years, for her final class of the day. There were five Ravenclaws, four Slytherins, four Hufflepuffs, and three Gryffindors. She recognized a few faces from when she was a student herself, but still had to learn all their names. Since they were studying more advanced Charms it was easier for her to focus on the lesson.

Finally, it was time for dinner. Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought of sitting next to him at the head table. As she trailed behind her happily conversing students her thoughts buzzed of ideas. Should she slip a hand down his inner thigh and squeeze? Should she try to ignore him? Should she make forced small talk—which she knew he loathed? Oh, there were so many different directions she could take when it came to teasing him.

She stopped short, her imagination halting as well, when she saw that his seat was empty. In what felt like a trance, Hermione slowly continued to make her way to the head table as her mind whirred with questions. Was he simply running late? He couldn't be talking with McGonagall, for she was sitting in her own seat, eating what appeared to be a mixed green salad. He wouldn't miss dinner due to a project, would he? She knew that the Headmistress expected professors to attend dinner unless an emergency arose, or, in Severus's case, the opportunity to catch rule-breaking students. But Severus had taken a drastic step back on his crackdown of misbehaving students ever since Harry had graduated. So _where was he_? Was this all part of his playing hard to get?

Hermione sat through dinner quiet and subdued. Neville attempted to ask her about her day, but as she continued to answer with a clipped tone and short words, he quickly turned to Pomona to pick her brain instead. Severus' chair remained empty throughout dinner and on multiple occasions Hermione had to stop herself from asking the Headmistress if she knew where he was.

She stormed down to the dungeons after dinner, not caring who saw her or what they thought. She broke the wards to his private lab easily, but upon seeing he wasn't there, she marched right up to the door she knew lead to his sitting room and attempted to break down those wards, too.

Amazingly, she was able after only a few tries. Either her magic had gotten stronger, or he had intentionally weakened his wards.

She saw him hunched over the small desk in his sitting room, scribbling onto a piece of parchment by fire-light. His hair draped around the sides of his face and he was still dressed in his teaching robes—it looked as if he hadn't been able to take a rest since she had last seen him in his potions lab.

"Give me a moment, Hermione, please," he said quietly, without looking up and continuing to write on the parchment.

All previous anger at his absence at dinner dissipated immediately and worry grew deep in her gut. Something had happened, but she knew better than to interrupt him. She stood, awkwardly, worriedly, in front of his desk and continued to watch his hand fly over the yellowed parchment. From where she stood, and from the way the firelight danced across the paper, she couldn't make out any of the words, but his extreme concentration told her it was something of the utmost importance.

Finally, what seemed like ages later, his hand flew off the page and the paper arose from the desk, neatly folding itself into a perfect square. An envelope manifested out of thin air and the piece of parchment slid inside. The envelope sealed itself and Severus took it in his hand, quickly scribbling what Hermione knew to be its recipient on the front.

She watched as Severus snapped his fingers twice and Winky the House Elf appeared with a loud crack.

"Winky, please take this letter to the Owlery and have it delivered at once. And make haste," he commanded, thought not unkindly, Hermione noted, just with urgency.

"Yes Master Snape," Winky squeaked, taking the letter carefully in her small hands and then disapperating with another loud crack.

Severus put his hand to his left temple and rubbed, his eyes closed and his other hand resting atop the writing desk.

Finally, unable to wait a second longer, Hermione asked, "What happened? Was there an emergency?"

"Of sorts," he grumbled.

"Well, what happened? Has a student been injured?"

He brought his hand down and looked at her. "Not a student, no."

His curt and unhelpful answer frustrated her. "Severus, why aren't you telling me what happened?"

"Because it's not my place to do so. Yes, it was a kind of an emergency; no, a student has not been harmed; yes, that was a letter of great importance and time sensitivity. If you want to know more, I suggest you visit Molly, as you said you were going to this evening. It is almost eight, if you didn't already realize."

Hermione was taken aback. What did all of this have to do with Molly? "I did realize. I was more worried about _you_ , Severus."

"Worried? Or disgruntled that you didn't have another opportunity to accost me under the table while we sat next to our peers and in front of our students?"

Although his tone was not accusatory, it was not light and jesting, either. Her face flushed a deep crimson and a sudden flare of anger ignited. "You didn't seem to mind it much the other day." Without waiting to hear his snarky reply, she spun on her heels and marched out of the room. If he wouldn't tell her what was going on, she'd find out herself.

 _Great Merlin, sometimes that man was infuriating!_

-SS-

It wasn't his fault he couldn't tell her all that had transpired since he had last seen her. It was a private matter, and he himself could still scarcely believe he had been asked to assist. It was during his second to last period that Professor McGonagall had interrupted his lesson and asked that he come with her, quickly, to the Hospital Wing. Professor Jones was with her, and it was explained that she was adept at potions and would be overseeing the rest of his classes for the day.

Intrigued, and concerned, but never one to question the Head of the school, he went with her without question and it was only as they were nearly upon the Hospital Wing that Minerva finally spoke.

"This will come as a shock, Severus, but please let me explain once we are inside and unable to be overheard." With that, she pushed open the doors and lead Severus inside.

It wasn't until she guided him into the concealed room on the far side of the Hospital Wing that he understood her meaning.

Shocked he was, but he knew immediately why Minerva had sought him out.

Lying in one bed was Fleur Weasley, surrounded by Bill, Molly, Arthur, and George. In the bed across from them was Rodolphus Lestrange.

-HG-

Hermione walked quickly to Mrs. Weasley's office, even though she knew it wasn't eight quite yet. Hopefully she wouldn't have to wait long. She wanted to figure out what was going on and was angry that Severus wouldn't tell her. She was also angry that no one else had told her. Ginny, maybe. Or even Harry. Surely, as being part of the Weasley family, both would know what's going on. But she hadn't received owls from any of her friends since the first day of term.

She knocked on the door to Mrs. Weasley's office—perhaps louder than she had intended—and was relieved when the door opened right away.

It wasn't Mrs. Weasley who opened the door, though.

Ron stood in the doorframe, a look of shock on his face at seeing Hermione. She was shocked, too, and could do nothing but stammer, "Oh, uh, your mother wanted to see me…"

A slow few seconds of silence passed then Ron seemed to remember himself. "Oh. Right, of course. Come on in, Hermione. Er, Professor?"

"Hermione is fine…Ron." Hermione stepped past him and into the office in time to see that Percy and George were there, too.

Mrs. Weasley was slumped over her desk, looking worn and worried. Percy was standing next to her, rigid as a board, with a hand on her shoulder, and George was walking back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands ruffling his hair, thinking.

"Mum, er, Hermione's here," Ron said, coming up to his mother and resting a hand over hers.

Mrs. Weasley looked up and brought her eyes to Hermione. "Oh, Hermione, thank you so much for coming. Did Severus…"

"He didn't tell me anything. He wanted me to hear it from you. What's happened? What can I do? Is it Fleur?"

"Fleur was…attacked." Were the only words Mrs. Weasley could utter, before she broke out into sobs. Percy and Ron immediately converged on her; patting her and rubbing her shoulders and arms and telling her to calm down, that everything would be alright.

"Everyone is doing everything they can, mum," Ron said just above a whisper.

Hermione bristled. "No!" She said, loud and harsh. Mrs. Weasley let out a stifled sob and glanced at Hermione, while Ron, Percy and George all turned to stare at her, confusion and shock in their eyes. "No. Everyone is not doing everything they can. _I'm_ not doing everything I can because I haven't been told what's going on. Please," and as she spoke she turned to Ron. "Tell me what has happened and I know I can help. Who attacked Fleur? Where is she now? How badly is she injured?"

"Tell-tell her, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said.

"I think… I think it's better if she just _sees_ for herself, mum. Can I take her to the Hospital Wing? Would that be alright? I could ask Madam Pomfrey for more calming draught while I'm there."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and leaned into Percy, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Come on," Ron said, and lead Hermione out the door.

They walked to the Hospital Wing in silence, and the uneasiness between them was undeniable. Hermione hadn't seen Ron since October of her last year at Hogwarts… nearly two years. The distance that had grown between them felt like a chasm. And he didn't know about Severus, either. Just thinking about him knowing caused Hermione's stomach to churn uncomfortably.

"This way," Ron said, leading her to the back of the Hospital Wing, into Madam Pomfrey's office, and over to a far wall. He tapped two times with his wand, and the wall disappeared altogether.

Hermione was shocked to learn that there was a hidden extension to the Hospital Wing she had never been told about but was even more shocked to see the scene before her.

Madam Pomfrey was leaning over a bed with Fleur in it, who seemed unconscious. Sitting next to the bed was Bill, Fleur's mother, Fleur's father, and Fleur's younger sister. In the bed across from Fleur's was a man Hermione had never met, but she had seen before. Her heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the frozen form of Rodolphus Lestrange… Bellatrix's husband… a Death Eater.

Standing guard around his bed were three aurors, none of whom Hermione had met before. One man was older, with greying hair, but the other two, one man and one woman, seemed younger, perhaps just a few years into their job as being aurors. She walked closer to his bed, just close enough to discern that the aurors were restraining him with the Full Body-Bind Curse.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over to them just as Bill and Fleur's family turned to look who had entered. The aurors were surveying Hermione with interest, likely because they knew who she was.

"Ron, did Molly—"

"She would like Hermione's help. I thought it best to bring her here, so everyone could be together, and tell her what we know."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "How is Molly?"

"She could use another calming draught. Do you have any to spare?"

"Of course, of course." She summoned a small flask from a nearby shelf and handed it to Ron. "She should drink this in full, and while it may make her tired, she should calm down right away. If you need any ointment, I have some as well."

"This should be enough for now. Thank you," Ron replied. "Would you be able to fill Hermione in on everything while I bring this to my mom?"

"Yes, dear." She gave Ron and small smile and turned to Hermione. "We're happy you're hear, Hermione. The more help we can get, the better."

Hermione watched Ron leave, re-warding the room as he went, and allowed Madam Pomfrey to guide her over to where Fleur was lying, her eyes closed, almost as if she were simply sleeping…but Hermione could tell from the way she looked and how still and cold she was, that this wasn't sleep she was witnessing.

"Is she…"

"No," Bill rasped. His eyes were red and it looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. "She isn't…dead. But we had to place her into a forced sleep so she wouldn't…" he trailed off, but Hermione didn't understand.

"Didn't what?" she asked, turning to Madam Pomfrey, whose expression seemed pained.

"Didn't hurt herself," Madam Pomfrey whispered.

"Hurt herself?"

Hermione heard Fleur's mother sniffle loudly as Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Precisely. The curse placed upon her by that despicable man has caused her to…" but it was as if no one could say what needed to be said; it was as if the words were too obscene to utter them aloud.

"She isn't…herself," Bill explained to Hermione. "The curse, whatever it was, has caused her to believe that she… deserves to die. She tried to…"

"Oh my God," Hermione breathed, her eyes widening. She had never heard of such a curse.

"This is the only state she can be in that's safe for her," Madam Pomfrey explained.

"How long has she been like this?" Hermione asked.

"Two weeks," Bill answered.

"Two weeks?!" Hermione looked at him, aghast. Then she swiveled her head and looked at Lestrange. "And why is he… that vile, evil… why is he _here_? And not in Azkaban?"

"Because…" Madam Pomfrey began, but then a low voice came from behind Hermione. A voice that made her skin crawl and her heart pound.

"Because, only Lestrange knows how to break the curse."

Severus had entered the room, dressed in his black robes, and surveying all of them imperiously. "The Minister is on his way. He intends to question Lestrange himself. Auror Potter will be joining him."

Everyone in the room had fallen silent, even the aurors were staring at Severus with bated breath. "And he has requested that no one but Potter, Professor Granger, and myself, be present for his interrogation." Again, everyone stared at him; the aurors probably because they already knew of this, and Madam Pomfrey, Bill, and Fleur's family probably because they didn't know what to say, Hermione, of course, because when could she ever take her eyes off of him?

"He will be here in fifteen minutes," Severus said, then beckoned Hermione to follow him.

She did.

A/N: Okay, guys, so this chapter has NOT been edited, so sorry for any typos or just weirdly-worded sentences. I wanted to get this posted as soon as I finished it, but never fear, I will update it with edits as soon as I can find the time. As you can see, my postings have gotten slower as slower. This is mainly because I'm working full-time and going to school and have a family to take care of, so I apologize for the slow updates, but as I said I will not give up on this story and intend to see it through to the end! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the new turn of events! As always, your comments, follows, faves and support is much appreciated!


	32. Chapter 8 - La Richiesta (The Request)

Chapter 8

La Richiesta (The Request)

Hermione and Severus walked in silence side by side, heading towards the grand staircase.

Just when Hermione was about to speak, Severus yanked her arm and pulled her into one of the hidden passages along the corridor.

It was one of the smaller ones, so they were pressed up against one another in the darkness, but she didn't mind. She watched as he flicked his wand twice, once towards the entrance to the hidden passage and once more over their heads in a circular motion. She felt a strange sensation, as if something slimy were sliding down her body from the top of her head, and she realized he had just cast a Disillusionment Charm over them both.

Her heart was pounding and nearly all thought of what she had just seen and heard in the Hospital Wing had flitted from her mind. The tail end of those thoughts disappeared altogether when Severus ran his knuckles gently down the side of Hermione's cheek.

"Do you suppose we could spare a quick moment together?" he whispered, his low voice hushed and husky.

"I..." but before she could answer, his lips had descended on hers. Apparently, he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

As their kiss deepened she felt his hand brush against her left breast and continue down the curve of her sides and down to her ass, where he squeezed her gently, then again more forcefully. She gasped into their kiss and he pressed himself harder against her.

This was more like the Severus she had imagined in her fantasies.

She felt him reach lower until he was yanking up her skirt. His hand found the lining of her sheer tights and he pulled them down. For a moment, Hermione was afraid he might rip them, but fear was replaced with a heart-pounding excitement at the eroticism of Severus tearing her clothing. She felt her tights slipping down to her ankles as he continued to tug at them, his breathing heavy and his hand swift and strong.

He went back to kissing her, forcing her once more, hard, up against the stone wall. She could feel him fumbling around with the opening of his trousers and her hands moved instinctively to help him. He groaned into her mouth when she touched his erect length. She felt a trembling begin between her legs. In one swift movement he lifted her up while she used her hand to guide him to her wet quim.

She was so ready.

He slid inside of her easily and she wrapped her legs around his hips while pressing the back of her upper body firmly against the stone wall for support. She grabbed onto him for balance as he began to move rhythmically back and forth. She let out small gasps and moans as he continued to grind into her, his length sliding in and—almost—out, all the while massaging her sweet spot so perfectly, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from throwing her head back and yelling with pleasure.

Her lover's movements soon became more hurried, frantic, and as she stared into his eyes she could see that soon he was going to release himself into her. She quickly slid her hand down and began rubbing her clit in a circular motion, trying to match the speed of his thrusts. In moments, they were both climaxing, he slightly earlier than she, but close together nonetheless. The experience had been so surprising and erotic to Hermione that she wasn't at all surprised at how easily she was able to come right along with him.

Panting, he slid out of her, and gently set her back down on her feet. Then he pulled her close and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the cantering of his heartbeat. She knew hers must have been beating just as fast. She felt him take out his wand and drag it along her inner thigh. In the next moment she was completely dry.

 _Always immaculate,_ she thought to herself, but smiled into his chest just the same.

After a few long moments, Hermione's thoughts came back full force, but she still found it difficult to speak. "Severus… we really should… you know…" Her head felt like it was spinning atop her shoulders. Never had she felt so pleasantly light-headed.

"You're not finishing your sentences, Hermione… now why would that be?" Severus's words were dripping with mirth at her obvious struggle to form an intelligible sentence.

She sighed, loudly, and pushed herself away from him, yanking up her tights and pulling down her skirt as she did so. "You _know_ what I'm trying to say. We… need to go. This is _Fleur_ we're talking about. We have to help her." She was serious now, staring into his eyes with what she hoped was a stern expression.

He smirked. "I _know_ we have to help her, and we're going to. But there was no way I was going to be able to concentrate on _anything_ if I didn't shag you first."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn at his crudeness, but she felt flattered nonetheless. "Well, now you've got your shag—" she began, but he cut her off with another fierce kiss that rendered her speechless once they broke apart. Then he removed the Disillusionment Charm he had placed on them both, and then flicked his wand again towards the entrance to the passageway.

"Was that your infamous _Muffliato_ charm?" she asked, a knowing ring to her tone.

"I'd rather not have anyone overhear your moaning," he whispered and leaned in closer to her so that his lips were brushing up against her ear as he said, "Only _I_ should be enjoying those sounds."

She rolled her eyes, even though her skin was crawling with arousal, and rested her hands on her hips. "Let's _go_ , Severus."

He smirked but held out his arm in a gesture for her to step ahead of him out of their hiding place. She mentally stowed away its position in case she wanted to use it again with him in the future.

"Where did the others think we were going? Surely they didn't assume we'd be going off for a shag behind the portrait of Rubens Winikus." Hermione shot him a sideways glance and a cheeky grin.

"They thought we were going where we are going right now," he answered swiftly as he strode ahead of her towards the grand staircase.

"Which would be where, exactly?" She asked, skipping to come up beside him. His legs were considerably longer than her own, but she was determined to match his stride.

"To the Headmistress's office," he replied.

While his face remained unreadable, Hermione knew hers must be turning the color of a ripe tomato and her stomach felt as if it had dropped into her shoes.

"Did she…did she ask for us, or are we going unannounced?"

Severus didn't turn to look at her, but she saw the corner of his mouth lift in what she knew was his infamous smirk. " _We_ have not been summoned, no. I was summoned."

"And you're dragging me along with you? Is this some form of punishment?" She knew she must've sounded whiney, but she couldn't help it. Professor McGonagall had walked in on them in an obviously intimate moment earlier that day, and now, after they had just made love in a concealed alcove, they were going straight to her office. Nothing good could possibly come from the upcoming encounter.

Just as Hermione was about to protest further, Severus turned to her and stopped, so she stopped, too, and their eyes met. Her mouth parted slightly with the next words about to spill from her mouth. She was robbed of breath, though, when he took the back of his hand and gently caressed her left cheek.

"There is no one else I'd rather have with me as we face this act of deeply Dark Magic, Hermione. I hope that you are agreeable to helping me help Fleur."

She was speechless still even after his hand had dropped. The place where he had touched her tingled. Finally, she said, as she gazed into his hematite irises, "Of course, Severus. I'll do everything I can to help you."

-SS-

Severus's expression was unreadable on the outside, but inside he was grinning with glee. He loved the hold he had over Hermione. Not in a dominant, overbearing, smug kind of way… well, okay, maybe slightly smug… but not in a way that was at all demeaning to Hermione's intelligence or person. He knew that if he pushed things too far—started to make it seem as if he was taking advantage—she would lash back at him with fire and fury, and he was not at all anxious to experience his little Gryffindor's wrath, just as he was not interested in truly taking advantage of her. He did not want to lose her…yet still wanted to tease her.

Also, he couldn't honestly admit that he, too, was not slightly nervous to see the Headmistress with Hermione in his presence. Yet he was able to conceal his nervousness much better than Hermione, which he found both amusing and strangely calming. If she was nervous, that meant she cared as to what Minerva had to say about their relationship. If she cared about what Minerva had to say, that meant she held the Headmistress in as much esteem as he himself held her—which he had not really doubted before, but it was pleasant to see his assumptions confirmed. If there was any other witch in the world that Severus cared for besides Hermione, it was Minerva McGonagall.

The witch, who was old enough to be his mother, had been his only true friend over the past few years. Not just friend, but mentor and the closest thing he had to a mother figure ever since his own mother died. And while their relationship was tested during his time as a spy, she wholeheartedly accepted Potter's explanation of Severus's behavior and forgave him much easier than others had. And, while he was sullen during the time that Hermione had been away, she and Molly had done their best to console him, although they did not know as to why he needed consoling.

 _No_ , he thought to himself, _If Minerva disproved of my relationship with Hermione, she would have already come to me about it. Which can only mean she is supportive._ And it was that thought that accompanied him as he and Hermione came to stand before the gargoyle statue that, for so long, had guarded the office of the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts. The same gargoyle that had guarded him those long, dreary nights he spent alone in that office, with only portraits—shadows—of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses to be of any comfort to him.

Severus turned to look at Hermione, who turned to look at him, her expression full of nervousness. "Relax, Hermione," he said with a small smile. "She is no longer your teacher, but your colleague, remember that."

"My _boss_ , technically. She can fire us, you know."

His grin widened. "She's not going to fire us." He reached out his hand and stroked the space between the gargoyle griffin's eyes and up its large forehead. As he stroked the statue, he murmured he room's password, "Isobel". As soon as he pulled back his hand, the gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside so he and Hermione could begin their ascent.

"Good evening, Severus. I see you decided to bring Hermione along as well. This is appropriate, as I'm sure the two of you working together will result in a cure for Fleur's state faster than just one astute mind working alone."

The elderly witch smiled at them both, a twinkle in her eye that reminded Severus very much of the late Albus Dumbledore. For all their differences, the Headmistress seemed to have taken on some of Albus's enjoyment of making others feel as if they were being stripped down to their very core.

Severus bowed his head in a polite, respectful gesture. "I'm glad you think so, Minerva. Hermione knows only some of what has occurred, but she is more than willing to help Fleur." He glanced at Hermione, who was standing next to him, clearly flushed, but he was pleased to see she was maintaining eye contact with Minerva without flinching. A grin threatening to claim his lips, he turned back to the Headmistress and continued, "I assume you called me to your office so you can provide more information and instruction."

"The next step to take would be to interrogate Lestrange and find out exactly what curse he put on Mrs. Fleur Weasley, however I do not know when Kingsley will be here, and he was explicit in his instructions of how he wanted the interrogation to be conducted."

"Wasn't the Minister supposed to be here by now?" Hermione asked, checking her watch.

"He is running fashionably late," Minerva said, her face stony. "In the meantime, I could use both of your help. Hermione, you and I shall look through my personal library and the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library to see if there are any books that may shed light on her curse. Severus, you could start by looking through your own personal collection of potion books to start preparing. I'm fairly certain we will need a rare if not entirely new potion to cure this awful curse."

"Have you already looked through the books in this office? I know Professor Dumbledore kept a few in here, including _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ , which I still have in my possession."

Both Severus and Minerva turned to Hermione in surprise.

Severus was intrigued. The young witch not only had knowledge about Dumbledore's stash of books, but she had one in her possession, and the title was one of the darkest books on dark magic there was. Severus was genuinely speechless, and by the look of it, so was the Headmistress.

Severus surveyed his lover and saw that her face had become a bright shade of embarrassed pink.

"I didn't _want_ to keep it, you see," the young professor mumbled. "I just didn't want it to find its way into anyone else's hands. A book like that…" and she visibly shuddered and did not finish her sentence.

Severus knew was she meant. He, in fact, had read the book. Not in its entirety of course, but the Malfoys had a copy of it in their home and he had perused it a few times when he had been much younger. His interest was piqued, though, because he couldn't imagine the previous Headmaster providing Hermione with such a book. While Dumbledore had made some strange choices throughout the year, he had never been daft enough to do such a thing. So how had the young Gryffindor come into its possession?

As Severus continued to survey his lover curiously, Minerva began to speak in a way in which he could tell she was doing her best to conceal her shock and curiosity.

"I have indeed searched through Albus' books, and the collection of other previous Headmasters who had a habit of either leaving their books here or taking books from the Hogwarts library and never returning them. None of the books I have discovered and read through so far have been of help. I suppose we could start by finishing the books in this office, and then proceed to your own collections and the library."

Hermione nodded, and Severus turned back to the Headmistress to give her a curt nod of agreement as well. "Do we have any idea when Kingsley will be in contact?" he asked.

"I'm hoping to hear from him by Floo within the hour, but as Minister, he is a very busy man. Still, he expressed to me that he was deeply concerned for Fleur and so I believe he will make this one of his top priorities. The fact that we have a dangerous Death Eater held in our Hospital Wing is most likely enough incentive for him to come here sooner rather than later," Minerva explained.

"I would hope so," Hermione added. Her face looked concerned, and Severus figured she was concerned for the safety of everyone within Hogwarts. As Dementors were no longer used to restrain criminal wizard and witches, Aurors were employed instead, but, as with most Dark wizards, sometimes a group of Aurors were not always enough to keep them from hurting others.

"Shall we begin helping you, Minerva?" he asked, breaking the solemn silence in the circular room.

"Yes, of course. Severus, if you'd like to begin looking through your personal collection, Hermione and I can finish up with the books in here and then make our way to the library."

Severus could practically feel Hermione's gaze, pleading him not to leave her alone with the clever Headmistress, but he would not dare to go against what Minerva thought was best—or her unspoken plans, no doubt to interrogate Hermione about when and how they both became interested romantically in one another.

Severus nodded. "I will come to you immediately if I make any discoveries, however, I doubt it will happen so soon, as we still don't know exactly what curse Lestrange used."

"I understand, Severus. Still, any way to shed light on this…" and the Headmistress trailed off, apparently too lost in her own contemplations to continue.

Nodding curtly once more, Severus turned to leave. As he did so he caught Hermione's eye and gave her a steady, piercing look, full of meaning, and then a small smile. She may be nervous to be alone with the older Gryffindor, but he knew that she would be fine.

-HG-

"So, are you and Severus _purposefully_ trying to keep your relationship a secret?"

The question took Hermione so off guard that she dropped the book she had just pulled down from one of the many shelves in the office. Her cheeks began to burn, and she couldn't bring herself to look towards McGonagall.

"We… well, he thinks it would be best for the first few weeks of term to keep it just between us…" she knew her tone was giving away the slight bitterness she felt towards his decision.

"And you don't agree with his preference of doing so?" the older witch asked, correctly interpreting Hermione's tone.

Hermione's head snapped toward her in response. "Believe me, Headmistress, it was definitely _not_ my intention to have you see what transpired between us. We both made the careless mistake of forgetting to re-ward his private lab."

The headmistress gave her a small smile. "I do not think you intended me to see, Hermione. I was merely curious to know if you, too, wanted to keep your relationship with him a secret. You have never been as secretive as he always has been."

Hermione bent down to pick up the book she had dropped. "I… I don't necessarily agree, no, but if it assures him that… that my feelings for him are not something fleeting, and that a relationship between us can work, then I will let him have his time of discretion…"

"Just remember that your desires are important, too, and that some of his actions may come from fear more than a need of privacy."

Hermione couldn't think of what to say. Was Severus truly so afraid that she would tire of him so easily? Or that she didn't feel as strongly for him as she had professed?

"Well," McGonagall continued, "Let us begin with our search. I see you've found a useful volume there, and I should pick up where I left off during my own research. That bookshelf," she pointed to the one Hermione had gotten the book from, "is the only shelf yet I have not gone through. Feel free to look through it for any other titles you think may be helpful."

"Of course," Hermione whispered, and together the two witches set to work.

"I think I might have found something," Hermione said about a half an hour later. She walked over to Minerva and showed her the text she had been examining. "It doesn't tell us what the curse is, but there's a mention here to an ancient form of Dark Magic, usually passed down from male to male in Pure Blood families, that can render a person—wizard, witch, or muggle—into a state of depression that causes them to wish themselves to have never existed."

"Does the book provide a counter-curse or any kind of remedy?" Minerva moved to stand beside Hermione, peering down at the text.

The younger witch shook her head. "No, Professor, but I did find this segment interesting. It states that the curse can only be used on those in love, and that there is no spell that directly counters the curse. While that sounds disheartening, I couldn't help but noticing it did not specify that a _potion_ could not counter it, nor did it mention that there was _no_ counter. Which leads me to believe—"

"That there is, in fact, a way to break the curse," the older witch sighed. There was some relief in her words, but mainly worry.

Suddenly the office's large fireplace erupted into bright green flames. Hermione jumped, but Minerva looked calmly towards it.

"The Minister must be trying to contact me," she said quietly. Raising her wand, she pointed it towards the fireplace and twirled it slightly. Hermione watched as the green flames flickered to one side and then, as they rightened once more, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared.

"I apologize for the delay in my coming, Minerva." Kingsley's voice was as deep and as calming as ever, and Hermione felt just a little braver, and more hopeful, than she had before.

Before Minerva or Hermione could speak, Harry Potter stepped out of the fireplace directly behind Kinsley. His eyes found Hermione first and he gave her a small, soft, endearing smile.

Hermione immediately moved forward, and they embraced tightly. It had been such a long time since she had hugged him, she realized, and it was much overdue. She hadn't seen him since she had arrived back and hadn't heard from him either. Part of her wondered whether or not he still cared for her, while the other admitted that she had been just as distant and preoccupied as he undoubtedly had been.

Breaking apart, she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here."

Continuing to smile softly he said, "Me, too. I'm just sorry for the circumstances. Fleur…" and he trailed off, looking to Minerva. "How is she?" he asked.

"In the same condition. We need to break the curse, and soon."

"But first," Kingsley interjected. "We need to discover what the curse is and how to break it. Have you made any discoveries since we were last in contact, Minerva?"

"Hermione just discovered a mention of a curse that sounds like the one Fleur has been placed under." And the Headmistress moved to retrieve the book she and Hermione had been examining moments before. She handed it to Kingsley who moved to allow Harry to read it as well.

"No known spell that can be used as a counter-curse…" Harry murmured, a look of worry growing evident on his face.

"We hope that we will be able to use a potion, or create a potion, that can break the curse," Hermione said quickly.

Harry met her eyes and held them for a few moments. His gaze seemed to be both worried and questioning—was he perhaps thinking of Severus and wondering if something had come of Hermione's love for the dark potions master, or was he simply doubtful that a potion to break the curse existed or could be made?

The sound of the office's wards releasing sounded and, as if thinking of him had conjured him into being, Severus stepped into the office. Seeing Kingsley and Harry, he bowed in acknowledgement, and then strode quickly towards them. He was carrying two large, dusty volumes in his hands. "I have not found a potion to break the curse," he began, "but I have found some used to break similar curses. With the right minds," and he glanced quickly at Hermione as he said this, "we may be able to concoct a potion to rid Fleur of her curse. Have you made any discoveries in my absence?"

Hermione took the book from Kingsley and Harry and showed it to Severus, noticing how her heart sped as his fingers brushed up against hers as he took the volume from her. His eyes flew over the page quickly and he nodded. "It is as I though. We must interrogate Lestrange, and then work on brewing a potion that could counter the curse."

"Let us waste no more time," Kingsley declared. "Minerva, I would like you to see to Fleur's family for me. Harry, Severus and Hermione will come with me to interrogate Lestrange."

Hermione was tempted to ask why she was to help… Harry and Severus she understood—Harry was an Auror, and Severus had once been a Death Eater and possibly knew Rodolphus—yet she had no connection with the Auror department nor the Death Eaters, so why was she included?

As if sensing her question, Severus turned to her and said, "I wanted you to be there, Hermione. I specifically requested that the Minister allow you to assist me and provide me with…" he paused and held her gaze steadily. "Provide me with support," he finished, barely above a whisper. Leaning closer to her he whispered, in front of everyone, but so that only she could hear, "I do not desire to go down this dark, gloomy path without you with me, for I… I need you."

Hermione's heart swelled.

As he pulled back their eyes met once more. In a whisper she replied, "Of course. I will come with you."

A/N: Thank you all so much for the new follows and favorites this story has received as I've clearly been MIA since my last update in September. My fall semester was so demanding, plus my new full-time job, that I haven't been able to post. I hope you'll be happy to know that I'm on break from school for about a month and that this next semester shouldn't be *fingers crossed* as taxing as this last semester. My updates may be sporadic, but I cannot tell you how much I continue to appreciate your interest, support, and love for this ship. Anyway, I was intent on getting another chapter posted before the new year, so as a new year gift to all of you, chapter 8 of part two is finished and chapter 9 is underway! Thank you all again, and a very happy new year to you all!


	33. Chapter 9 - Il Duello (The Duel)

Chapter 9

Il Duello (The Duel)

It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time Hermione followed Severus, Harry and Kingsley to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey met them and, luckily, there were no students in any of the beds. Having curious students watching them all enter Madam Pomfrey's office and not reappear for a while would seem suspicious, no doubt.

Madam Pomfrey ushered them into the hidden room and then re-warded the invisible door behind them once they had all entered. The Weasleys and Fleur's family had gone and only the three Aurors remained standing guard over the unconscious and immobilized Rodolphus Lestrange.

"McKinney, Robinson, Lee, please stand guard," Kingsley instructed to the three Aurors. Silently, they nodded to him and moved to the hidden door. Hermione's eyes, however, stayed trained on Lestrange.

The Death Eater's face was sallow, his features sunken, and it was clear to Hermione that he had either just recently escaped from Azkaban, or he had been living rough for a while, just as Sirius had when he had been on the run from the Ministry those many years ago. Either way, Hermione knew that, while he may appear weak, his magical prowess could still be very strong, and very deadly, if his late wife's magical skill was any indicator of his own.

"How would you like us to proceed, Minister?" Severus asked, calmly, but Hermione saw in his closed expression that he was experiencing his own kind of dread, as she was. She couldn't imagine how many dark memories were flooding his mind at this very moment.

"We will awake him, and release the binding curse only above his neck, so he may speak to us, but be unable to move any other part of his body."

"Where is his wand?" Severus asked.

"With Auror Robinson. She has it concealed and locked away on her person. Lestrange will not be able to cast any wandless spells since we have it concealed in such a way that it has become resistant to his magic," the Minister explained.

"I don't mean to come off as if I'm second guessing you, Minister," Hermione began, somewhat timidly. "But why is it just the four of us with Lestrange? Wouldn't Minerva be able to help as well?"

Kingsley turned to look at Hermione, and she was relieved to see that it wasn't with a stern or commanding expression. "We asked her, but she wanted nothing to do with him."

"Minerva has encountered the Lestranges before—all three of them." Surprisingly, it was Severus who had spoken. "Not only did she spy closely on them just before their capture, but she also assisted in helping the Longbottoms endure the aftermath of their torture. As I can understand she, rightfully so, wants nothing to do with Rodolphus."

Hermione watched him, noticing how his expression held no emotion—that's how she knew he was feeling something, and she understood that it was concern, possibly love, for the older witch.

After a few moments of silence, Harry asked, "Are we ready to begin, Minister?"

"Yes. I will wake him and allow him to speak. All of us must remain extremely vigilant." Kinsley gave them all meaningful looks.

Hermione watched Harry turn to Severus with a meaningful look as well. "You going to do your _mind-reading_ , Professor?"

Severus looked at Harry, slowly, and pierced him with the same cold look he used to give him all the time back when Harry was his pupil. Hermione would recognize that look anywhere. She was about to open her mouth to say something that would prevent a possible argument between the two, when her lover's face slowly broke out into a small sneer and the cold gaze softened.

"Of course, Auror Potter," Severus replied in his deep, drawling voice. "I'll do my _mind-reading_. However, it may be that Rodolphus will employ Occlumency against me, as he had always been adept in the practice, unlike others."

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't say she was surprised. Severus had always ridiculed Harry's abysmal attempts at Occlumency. Why would now be any different?

-SS-

Severus knew it was no use openly mistreating Potter, at least not in front of Hermione, but he couldn't resist giving him a difficult time. He was pleasantly surprised when Harry brushed off the taunt with more maturity than he had done in the past.

"We're ready when you are, Minister," Potter said, completely ignoring Severus' gibe.

The Minister waved his wand and they all watched as Rodolphus opened his eyes and took in a deep breath. His face moved, his chest moved with his breath, but everything else about him was still.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," the Minister began.

"I know why you're here, Minister." Rodolphus cut through the Minister's words. His voice croaked, raspy from the lack of use. His eyes, a deep brown, seemed completely lifeless. "I'm not going to tell you what you want to know."

"Maybe you'll tell an old friend, then," came Severus's swift reply. As was normal, he kept his expression impassive. When Rodolphus's eyes found him, however, he allowed himself a small sneer at the Death Eater. He attempted to see into the Death Eater's mind, but a blockade had been placed there. No doubt Voldemort himself had taught both Lestranges the skill of Occlumency and Legilimency.

"Snape. You filthy blood traitor," Rodolphus spat. "Decided to go over to the weak side after all?"

"Weak side?"

Surprisingly, it was Hermione who had responded. Everyone looked towards her as she continued, "I think the word you're looking for, Lestrange, is the _stronger_ side. We won; Voldemort was defeated, and his followers are all either closely watched, imprisoned, or dead."

Rodolphus smirked at her, as much as he could, but his eyes remained cold and unfeeling. "The dark will never stop trying to snuff out the light. Shadows will always be there, ready and waiting."

"Enough of this," Severus cut in swiftly. "Rodolphus, what curse did you cast onto Mrs. Fleur Weasley?"

Rodolphus held onto Hermione's gaze a moment longer, causing Severus's pulse to quicken with a rapidly growing rage. Severus had to focus on using all his restraint not to curse the Death Eater then and there for staring at his love with such dark hunger.

When Rodolphus turned to look at Severus, his sneer had faded and a hard, mean look appeared in his eyes.

After a few tense moments of this cold stare, the Death Eater finally said, "I was told by a confidant in Azkaban that my wife was murdered by Mrs. Weasley."

"Well your idiot of an informant forgot to tell you _which_ Mrs. Weasley—there are two." Potter was the one to speak next. He was glaring, disgustedly, at Lestrange.

"It doesn't matter," Rodolphus growled. "I hurt one, I hurt the other. I know the older one is here somewhere, crying her eyes out over the younger."

"It does matter, because now you have her rage against you, and it was her rage and wrath that killed your wife." As she said this, Hermione's fists clenched tightly together. She continued to glare at Rodolphus, her eyes shining like daggers.

Everyone was silent for a few moments, even Rodolphus, who just continued to look back into Hermione's blazing eyes. Severus felt his fury beginning to flare up once more.

"We are getting off topic again. This is a skill of the Lestrange family. They know how to steer anyone and anything off track." Severus turned and placed his hand on Hermione's, gently, and only for a second, but he knew it would be enough to calm her. Then he looked back at the immobilized Death Eater and said, "Rodolphus, tell us what the curse was you used."

Rodolphus sneered back at him, but then his eyes traveled slowly, intently, from Hermione and then back to Severus. "Ah, Snape, you did always have a disgusting enjoyment for Mudbloods. I see it still persists."

Severus' hand flinched towards his wand, desperately longing to hex the man before him, or to cut out his tongue at the very least, but knew he needed to continue to keep him alive. It was surprising, therefore, when it was Hermione who stood suddenly and slapped the Death Eater across the face with such a force that his face reddened within seconds.

Both Potter and the Minister had jumped to their feet at Hermione's unexpected movement, hands on their wands, but both froze, stunned, as Hermione brought her arm back and slowly, composedly, returned to her seat.

"Sorry," Hermione said quietly. "I needed to shut him up for a second." She turned to Severus, who couldn't help but give her a small grin, and said, "Something tells me that trying to _talk_ will get us nowhere with this piece of…" she glanced at Rodolphus with a pure look of disgust on her face. "Blast-ended skrewt dung. And I'm assuming you cannot penetrate his mind?" She looked inquiringly into Severus' eyes.

He shook his head slightly. "No, I cannot. I have tried as we have been speaking."

Recovered from his momentary shock, the Minister turned to Hermione and asked, "What do you suggest then, Professor Granger?"

Severus was curious as well. Was the Gryffindor simply stating that conversation wasn't the right approach, or did she have an idea as how to retrieve the information?

Hermione turned to Severus with a subdued expression on her face, but in her eyes he saw what could've been only described as mischief. Softly, she asked, "Do we have any Veritaserum, Professor?"

And suddenly, in the span of only six words, she had caused him to feel like an idiot.

-HG-

One hour later, Hermione was working with Severus down in his private potions lab on a potion they hoped would cure Fleur. After using Veritaserum to extract information from Lestrange, Severus and Hermione had realized that the curse he used was of his own creation but based off three different known curses, all three of which were only ever studied in the Dark Arts. Combining the cures for those curses, they hoped to create a new potion that would cure her.

There was still one question bothering Hermione, though, as she worked along side the brilliant wizard she loved. She debated how best to ask him, though, and was nervous as to what he would think if she did, and whether he would answer her, let alone be honest with her. "Who were you writing a letter to when I came into your sitting room earlier this evening?" She finally asked, deciding to be blunt.

"Is that still prying away at your mind?" His tone was indifferent, perhaps with a slight hint of amusement.

"Well, it seemed like it was important," she replied, somewhat evasively.

"And your observation was correct. It was important." He didn't continue, so Hermione shot him a glare and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Severus, I think there is a time for playing games. If you aren't playing games and really won't tell me who you were writing to, then we need to have a conversation about being open and honest with one another."

He put down the mortar he had been using and turned to face her, meeting her gaze and staring intently into her eyes. "Hermione, it's going to take some time for me to easily open up to you. I'm not used to answering direct questions from anyone, not even Dumbledore."

"What about… Voldemort?"

She watched as his eyes darkened. "I had no choice in the matter," he answered, cold and matter of fact.

"Will you at least _try_ to be open with me?" she asked, quietly.

"I am trying. This is me trying. Me getting you to pry the answer out of me is me trying to open up," he explained, very matter of fact.

Hermione shook her head at him, a small grin beginning. "Well, practice makes perfect, then. Would you like me to _guess_ who you were writing that letter to?"

He grinned back at her and went back to working on the potion. "That would be a good start, I suppose."

"Hmmmmm." She pretended to be thinking hard about her guesses. "Were you writing to the Minister?"

"No, he had already been contacted by Minerva."

"So the letter was concerning Fleur? That's a rather helpful hint." He didn't reply, but his grin grew wider. "You purposefully gave me that hint, didn't you?" Again, he didn't reply.

She began cutting up dittany to add to the potion. "Alright. So, someone with knowledge we needed to help us? Another potioneer or healer, perhaps?"

This time, he gave her no hints, so she thought she might be getting closer to the answer.

"Horace Slughorn?"

That got him to chuckle. "Horace is an excellent potioneer, but not someone I would turn to for help unless I had a bargain for him. Try again."

Hermione did think harder this time. Had he perhaps contacted the healer he had had in America when he was being treated for his own injuries? "A healer?" she tried.

"No. The person in question is not a healer nor potioneer, but someone with knowledge about the specific criminal we recently interrogated."

"Someone with information about Lestrange?" Hermione was shocked. That hadn't even occurred to her, yet it made perfect sense. Someone who knew him, or was familiar with the spells he used, would be able to tell Severus, possibly definitively, about the curse he had used.

"Was it…a relative or friend of Lestrange?"

Severus turned to her and smiled. "Very good, Professor Granger."

"I didn't realize you were in contact with any…" but she stopped herself, as the answer suddenly came to her. "You were writing to one of the Malfoys? Lucius or Narcissa?"

"I am still waiting to hear back from Narcissa, yes. I am hoping she will be able to shed more light on what we already know."

Hermione kept silent for a while, thinking. She wasn't sure how she felt about Severus writing to Narcissa. She couldn't help but wonder if he, perhaps, kept in regular contact with her. While he hadn't mentioned anything of that nature to Hermione, she wouldn't put it past him to keep that from her—from many people.

Suddenly Severus had both of his hands on her upper arms, gently holding her so that they were both facing each other. "You're upset." He said it as a fact, not a query.

"Not...upset, no. Just...confused," she corrected him, not bringing her eyes to meet his but instead staring at the buttons on his black shirt.

"Hermione..." he breathed her name, just barely above a whisper, and she could practically feel her heart shudder. Her name on his lips, said by his voice, was one of the words she loved to hear him say most.

"What is it that Narcissa could tell you and... do you contact her often?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew the questions, especially the second, must've sounded childish to his ears. Her face grew hot with embarrassment, but there was nothing she could do to take the words back now.

"Is my love, perhaps, jealous?"

Even without looking at him she could tell he had a slight smirk on his face. She brought her eyes to his and gave him a small frown. "Not jealous, exactly. I just didn't realize you were in contact with her, or any of the Malfoys."

"I keep in contact with Draco more than any of the others, but I do hear from Narcissa every now and again. We have always been on friendly terms. Lucius did not think highly of me after the war, of course, but Narcissa acted as if she, well, not _known_ exactly, but as if she didn't hold my decisions against me. Lucius was beside himself with rage, but his defeat also seemed to take all the fight right out of him—not that he had much left. I'm sure you know that Draco is estranged from his father now and no longer lives with his mother."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I did not know that."

"He lives by himself, somewhere in England. He sees his mother regularly, or so I'm told, but not nearly as much as she would like. That is mainly where are topic of conversation leads us. Her pining away for her only son."

Hermione nodded. She knew something was changing with the Malfoys when she heard from Andromeda that Draco was coming to visit her and Teddy on a regular basis, without Narcissa. But she had no idea that Draco had estranged himself from Lucius and had moved away from his mother.

 _How war changes so many people_ … she thought to herself, a bit sadly, but also a bit mystified as well.

"As to your other question," Severus continued. "I was hoping that Narcissa would be able to tell us more about the curse Rodolphus used. Perhaps she had witnessed him use it before; perhaps her sister Bellatrix had spoken of it; perhaps Rodolphus had taught it to other Death Eaters. Who knows. I only hoped that we could shed more light on the situation with her…cooperation."

"But she hasn't responded?"

Severus shook his head. "No, but it has only been a few hours. She may not receive the letter right away."

"Of course…" Hermione trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Instead, she stared at his Adam's apple and paid close attention to the way his hands felt on her arms, the gently weight of them, and how broad they were compared to her own. He took his right hand and gently caressed the side of her face, so she gazed into his eyes again and saw that he was studying her intently, with worry in his eyes.

"Do you think this potion will work? Do you think Fleur can be saved?" she whispered, somewhat afraid of his answer.

He took his thumb and forefinger and lightly held her chin between them. Then he kissed the top of her head and said, his lips brushing against her skin, "Let us try, my love. Let us try."

And with that, they focused on brewing.

-SS-

Did he think the potion would work? Yes, he thought there was a good chance that it would. Did he think Fleur would be completely back to normal? No, he did not. He had a feeling that some of the effects of the curse would still be with her; depression and anxiety, for one. She may never be the same… but he did not want to tell Hermione that until they had at least tried the potion. He could, it was possible, be wrong.

Three hours had passed. It was now nearly four o'clock in the morning and he could tell Hermione was growing tired.

"I think I can manage the next few steps on my own, Hermione," he said to her gently as he watched her eyes flutter with exhaustion.

"I would rather complete the next steps with you," she protested, though feebly. "At least until it needs to simmer for a few hours, per your instructions."

"I insist, Hermione. You need rest," he pressed. He reached for her and gently pulled her to him, wrapping one of his arms around her slender waist.

"And you don't?" she asked, though her voice was still soft.

"I, unlike you, am well acquainted with having to stay up for hours and hours on end. I'm sure there is no need to remind you of how I used to barely sleep."

"And that was not good for you… you should not have to go through something like that again. Now, I can go through it with you," she explained, her face buried into his chest so most of her words were muffled and barely audible.

He chuckled deeply, unable to help himself. "I do not wish for you to go through this with me. I wish for you to get rest." And before she could reply he was lifting her up and cradling her in his arms. She let out a small "oh!" of briefest surprise, but then rested her head on his shoulder and kissed the inside of his neck. He felt a longing then, to lay her down, undress her, make love to her, and fall asleep beside her, but he knew that there would be time for such things later… he had to finish the potion.

He lay her down on the couch in his sitting room, where, he remembered with a small smile, she had fallen asleep a few times before, and summoned a blanket from the other room to cover her with. She protested a few more times, but even more feeble than before, and soon she was dozing off. He kissed her cheek and then quietly went back to the potion. Only a few more ingredients and steps to follow, and then it would need to simmer for three hours, allowing him to get some sleep himself.

An hour later, the potion was at the point where Severus could finally get some rest. He had barely begun to doze off, his head on his arms at the desk he sat at, when there was a loud bang from just outside the door to his private lab. His head jerked up as his pulse quickened. Either a student, or students, were going to be in a lot of trouble, or something more sinister was at work.

As quietly as possible, Severus approached the door. Just as he was a few feet from reaching it, the door imploded with an extremely loud crunch that reverberated around the room and throughout the dungeon corridor.

Rodolphus Lestrange, his wand drawn, charged towards Severus with a snarl of fury.

Severus was prepared. He had drawn his wand as he had approached the door and so had successfully deflected Rodolphus' first curse. The next curses came quickly, though, and both men began to dance around the room as they dueled; Rodolphus crashing into desks and potions ingredients while Severus ducked and dived and parried and shot back curses of his own.

The problem was, they had dueled before. Rodolphus knew Severus' dueling style and tactics as Severus knew Rodolphus'. If one of them were to defeat the other, it would be due to fatigue, or carelessness due to fatigue. And, Severus knew, someone was sure to come to the lab upon hearing the commotion, and he knew Rodolphus would not hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way, student or not, Slytherin or not, the Death Eater would not show mercy.

A moment later a flurry of bushy brown hair was by Severus' side, to both his shock and then his horror.

"Hermione!" he cried out as she blocked one of Rodolphus' curses that was aimed for her.

She did not answer but continued to fight with such a ferocity he had never seen in her before. He had only seen such ferocity in one other Gryffindor woman, that being Minerva McGonagall. Not even Lily had fought like the young lioness before him. Perhaps she was not as calm and composed as Minerva usually was while dueling, but she was just as focused, steady, and precise. Each spell Rodolphus threw at her she deflected immediately. Severus should have taken the opportunity to attack Rodolphus, but he had frozen from both terror and awe.

Just as he regained his wits, a shout came from the dungeon corridor. Rodolphus continued to shoot spells at Hermione but had also turned to see who had arrived.

It was Potter, his wand drawn, his expression reflecting what Severus felt.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out as Rodolphus turned his wand onto Potter.

But it was a feint. Rodolphus had not cast a curse at Potter but had slashed his wand back towards Hermione.

"NO!" Both Severus and Potter had cried out, and both had shot curses at Rodolphus, which struck their target. Rodolphus fell to the floor, unconscious.

But it was too late.

Hermione had crumpled to the floor, still and unmoving.

And she did not move as Severus knelt over her. She did not move as he took her into his arms and cradled her, calling out her name. She did not move as Potter ran towards them both with fear in his bright green eyes.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, reaching her finally.

Still, she did not move.

"Hermione, my love, my love," Severus cried, holding her face in his hands.

She did not move.

A/N: Sorry this is a shorter chapter, but school has started back up again and I'm finding it hard to find time to write again. I'll do my best to have the next chapter up within a month or so, and I'm really sorry I can't update any sooner than that, but school has to come first, I'm afraid. Goodness I'll be so glad when my Masters program is done. Sorry for the short rant. As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you for your continuous support! Also, I wanted to let you all know that I post pieces of this story on my instragram page with sevmione snamione pics to go with it, if you'd like to follow me there. User name . Thanks everyone!


	34. Chapter 10 - Recupero (Recovery)

Chapter 10

Recupero

(Recovery)

Potter burst in moments later, his face ashen, but his expression furious. "How could you have let this happen?" His anger was directed at Severus, who was standing beside Minerva at Hermione's bedside. Madam Pomfrey was administering some Skele-grow to Hermione, despite the fact that she was unconscious.

Ron Weasley followed closely behind Potter, just as pale and flustered. "What was she even doing down in the dungeons?"

Clearly, the second youngest Weasley was clueless. But Potter? Not quite. What had Hermione told him? Did he approve of her feelings for the infamous Potions Master? Did Severus even care? No. No, he damn well didn't care. Not now.

"I never intended for Professor Granger to be hurt," Severus said, coolly, doing his best to remain professional. He pointedly glared at Weasley and said, "She was helping me brew the potion that saved your sister-in-law's life."

"You should have been more careful," Potter snapped. "You should have known that, if Lestrange managed to escape, he would come straight for you, to try and stop you from finishing the potion."

Severus could feel his anger quickly rising, but he clamped down on it and replied through gritted teeth, "And you and your fellow Aurors should have been more effective in your attempts to guard the criminal. That's what your job is, isn't it?"

Potter's face reddened with embarrassment and what Severus knew to be fury. "She should not have been with you," he said, and Severus knew what his words truly meant: she should not be _with you_. Severus knew the boy was speaking irrationally, out of anger and concern for his friend, and probably out of guilt as well, but Severus was still tempted to put Potter in his place, nonetheless.

"This is not helping," came Minerva's voice. For a moment Severus had forgotten the older witch was standing beside him. "What we need to do now is ensure that Lestrange cannot escape and that Professor Granger is treated. Arguing will not help that."

Weasley shook his head. "I still don't understand how this could have happened. It doesn't take two people to brew a potion. Hermione is brilliant, sure, but she should have been safe, sleeping." He shot a look at Potter. "That's what you told me she was going to do… get some rest after the potion was well on its way to being completed."

Severus's temper was on the brink of exploding. The imbeciles were still debating on why she had been in harm's way? Couldn't they instead debate on how best to help her? They should have been going over different remedies with himself and Madam Pomfrey—not arguing about how or why this tragedy occurred.

"That _is_ what she told me," Potter replied.

"If you two don't stop prattling about unnecessary circumstances, I'm going to hex you," Severus finally snapped.

"Professor Snape, I implore you to remember where you are," Madam Pomfrey admonished. They were, in fact, in the main part of the Hospital Wing, and three other students were currently there. One who had been hexed with the curse of the bogies, and two others who were suffering pepper breath from the pepper breath hex.

"Where is Rodolphus now?" Severus turned to Minerva, ignoring both Madam Pomfrey and the two young men.

"Back in custody, under the full body bind curse once more. Kingsley called in three additional Aurors to stand guard."

"He should be back in Azkaban. Fleur is healing; we no longer need him," Severus said, looking from Minerva to Madam Pomfrey to Hermione. He couldn't look at her unconscious form for too long. It was just too painful, to see her there, lying perfectly still, breathing, but seemingly lifeless.

"And we agree, Severus. Kingsley is going to have him transported within the hour, just as soon as the other Aurors arrive," Minerva replied. Her tone was sharp, prickly, and Severus knew she, too, had a problem with seeing Hermione in the state that she was.

"They aren't here already?" Severus asked, anger and incredulity apparent in his voice.

"Not yet."

"I'm not leaving her side until they are gone." Severus met the older witch's eyes and held her gaze.

Weasley looked from Hermione, to Potter, to Minerva, to Severus, and then back to Hermione. "I don't understand any of this," he sighed, cradling his hands in his head, letting his tussled hair fall over his face.

"Maybe you and Potter should get some rest," Minerva suggested. "Severus and I can stay with Hermione for now." Potter looked as if he was going to argue, but Minerva cut him off by saying, "I know both of you have been up with Fleur and haven't had sleep in the last fourteen hours. You _need_ sleep. As soon as you get some, you can relieve me."

Potter's lips formed a tight, straight line, but he didn't protest. Weasley's shoulders hunched, as if in defeat, and he looked up at his friend. Potter gave him a curt nod and said, "Yeah, let's get some rest. I'm sure Rosmerta has a room or two she could spare."

Potter and Weasley left.

Severus stared down at Hermione, thankful that he could be with her without the accusatory and bemused looks of Potter and Weasley. Things were so much easier when they hadn't been involved. In fact, except the moment Minerva discovered Hermione and Severus together, things between them had been going better than he had ever dreamed. And now…

He continued to stare down at her closed eyes, her curls framing her face, and the way her chest was moving up and down slowly. Part of him still couldn't believe that it was really her, his Hermione, lying there. This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She had already been through so much. Why, when she was only 16 years old, she had been lying in this same bed recovering from a nasty Death Eater attack that had taken place in the Department of Mysteries. And here she was again…

And it was his fault.

"Don't let Mr. Potter get to you," Minerva told him quietly as Poppy bustled off to get another Dittany mixture.

"He's _not_ ," Severus spat, and a second too late realized that his reply alone gave away how he was truly feeling. Mastering himself, he peered up into Minerva's eyes and said, more calmly, "Potter is not getting to me."

The older witch sighed and a sad, knowing smile appeared on her face. "He is just as upset as you are. He, like you, thought Hermione would be well out of danger here at Hogwarts."

"Please, Minerva, just…" his voice trailed off as he felt his resolve begin to break. But no. He had to be strong, for Hermione. "I think you should get some rest, too."

"And what about you, Severus? When will you get sleep?"

"I don't need to sleep."

It looked as if she was about to reply, but then thought better of it. Instead she rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder for a moment, squeezed lightly, and then walked from the room. Poppy came back and both she and Severus applied more Dittany to Hermione's minor cuts and bruises.

Poppy left to attend to other patients, saying that the Skele-grow would take some time to take effect and that she would be back to check on Hermione in an hour or two. Shortly afterwards, Severus dozed off, his head resting on Hermione's bed.

"Lestrange is gone. Has she woken yet?"

Severus jerked awake and sat up quickly at the sudden noise close to him. Potter was back and was on the other side of Hermione's bed, speaking with Poppy. Severus could tell that Potter was purposefully not looking in his direction.

"She has been unconscious all this time, as far as I'm aware," Poppy replied. "Severus, has she woken at all?" she asked, turning to him. Potter continued to stare down at Hermione.

"If she had woken, I would have known," Severus answered.

"But you were asleep," Potter said, matter-of-factly.

Severus scowled. "She would have woken me."

"Would she, though?" His eyes finally met Severus's and they were piercing, and still accusatory.

"I've had enough of this," Severus growled. He stood abruptly and left the room, feeling hot all over and ready to explode. If he didn't leave, he would end up dueling Potter, and he knew neither Poppy nor Minerva would stand for that.

So, he left.

-HG-

Hematite irises. That's what Hermione had been dreaming of as she swam in the abyss of unconsciousness. Hematite irises, warm and gentle hands, soft lips, and a deep and reassuring voice.

Severus. Her Severus.

"Severus…"

"Hermione?"

But the voice that met her ears was not the voice of her lover.

Her eyes fluttered open. She felt groggy, and weak, and when she moved to sit up a stabbing pain enveloped her entire rib cage and shot straight to her head. She paused, pulling in a sharp breath and fighting back the sudden surge of nausea. She was alive, but she was nowhere near to being fully healed. She decided to stay lying down instead of trying to sit up and as she opened her eyes at first the face that hovered above her was fuzzy. But she knew who it was as soon as she made out the familiar round glasses and lightning shaped scar.

"Harry?" Her voice was soft and croaky. She wondered vaguely how long she had been unconscious.

"I'm here, Hermione." She felt Harry squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"How long have I been…?" she trailed off, as it took all her energy just to turn her head to survey the rest of the Hospital Wing. Resting on the small table next to her bedside was a small vase with flowers. The flowers were such a dark purple they were nearly black and had a thin ring of white around each petal. They were gorgeous, and so out of place in the bright white room that Hermione's eyes lingered on them for a few seconds, entranced. Then she scanned the rest of her surroundings and noticed that Madam Pomfrey was attending to another student farther down the room. When she turned back to Harry she couldn't help but realize only he was there with her.

Where was Severus?

"You've been unconscious for about eighteen hours," Harry replied. "Lestrange has been taken back to Azkaban. Fleur is on the mend and regained consciousness about four hours ago. That's where Ron and Professor McGonagall are now."

"Where is Severus?" she asked, looking towards the doorway as if expecting to see him walking into the Hospital Wing at the mere mention of his name.

"I don't know," Harry said, and his voice was suddenly much colder. "He left about two hours ago and hasn't been back."

"What—? That—that can't be right…" She felt confused, and in pain. Why would he have left her? "He…wouldn't…" she shook her head, trying to get her thoughts and words straight.

"Hey, Hermione, it's okay," Harry whispered, sitting down on her side and still holing her hand. "The important thing is that you're okay."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Harry. Severus should be here. Why isn't he here?"

Harry lowered his head and sighed, "Probably because he knows it's his fault you're here."

It took a moment for Harry's words to register. When they sunk in, Hermione yanked her hand out from Harry's and stared at him in fury. "I would ask how you possibly believe that this is Severus's fault, but something tells me you should save your breath and not make yourself sound like a complete arse."

Harry seemed shocked, but then his eyebrows furrowed together into a deep frown. "He should have known not to have you there with him. He should have known that—"

"Lestrange would come to try and stop us? Well, let's think about this _logically_ , which you know I do best. Who was put in charge of guarding Rodolphus Lestrange while Severus and I brewed the potion to cure Fleur?"

Harry remained silent with his lips pressed tightly together.

"Right. So, if it was you, there's no one else to blame but you. If it was you along with other Aurors, then some blame can be passed around. If you for some reason weren't even there then the blame is on the Aurors who were there, or, better yet, the blame is still on you for not thinking you needed to be there. I would also blame Kingsley, but as he's the Minister, it wouldn't be politically appropriate for me to openly chastise him." After she spewed all of this out, she leaned back into her pillow and said, staring him straight in the eye, "Now, Harry James Potter, cast your damn Patronus and tell Severus I need him."

-SS-

Severus was pacing his private lab, his rage having somewhat ebbed but not completed withdrawn, when he noticed a dim, white light glowing from just outside the doorway. As he stopped to watch its pulsing quality, he noticed it growing brighter and brighter at a quickening rate.

Extracting his wand, he turned towards the doorway. He stood ready and waiting, eyes narrowed into slits as the light grew, and grew, and grew.

He blinked and suddenly, there, standing before him, was a magnificent, pulsing white stag Patronus. He lowered his wand slowly and watched as the ethereal animal surveyed him imperiously. Then, in Potter's voice, it said, "She's awake."

It was already vanishing as Severus rushed out of the room and strode quickly towards the Hospital Wing.

As soon as he entered the Hospital Wing and saw her trying in vain to sit up in her bed, a rush of guilt and worry swarmed through him. He should have been there when she had awoken. He was an idiot for leaving—for having let Potter and Weasley push him out.

"Hermione," he sighed, kneeling at her bedside, all show of commanding potions Professor gone as he tucked a few strands of loose hair behind her ears and let his fingers linger on her cheek. "I'm so sorry I wasn't—"

But Hermione had pressed a finger to his lips before he could finish and gave him a small smile. "Come here, come closer," she beckoned quietly.

He leaned forward and before he could register what was happening her soft lips were pressed against his and her hand was gently rubbing the skin on the back of his neck. It must have been taking so much of her energy to touch him like this, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away, not even when he knew that Potter was there, watching them. Her lips on his tasted delicious, and her delicate fingers tracing lines on his skin sent shivers down his spine. If she had been feeling better, he knew he would have scooped her up into his arms and whisked her down into his quarters, to his warm and welcoming bed.

If only she were better…

He finally pulled away, bringing his hand up to catch her arm and gently set it back at her side. She gave him a small pout, but when he whispered, "Believe me, Hermione, I would gladly be latched onto you for the rest of forever, but you need your rest."

He watched as her lips formed into a small smile and her cheeks went slightly red as she, too, realized that Potter was still in the room. Severus forced himself to look at Hermione, and only at Hermione, despite the fact that he could hear Potter and Poppy whispering to one another. "Please forgive me," he whispered.

"And what is it I'm forgiving you for? Not wanting to stay here and listen to Harry and Ron blame you for nothing? Or for not being here when I finally woke up?"

He was both pleased and pained to hear that her tone was light. He would have rather her been angry with him. And yet she was ready to forgive him instantly. He did not deserve her…

"I am at fault. Potter…" he couldn't bring himself to say 'was right' so instead he said, "I, too, was tired, and was so pleased you were with me, that I allowed myself to forget that you being with me was dangerous as long as Lestrange was still within the castle."

Hermione was shaking her head. "Nonsense. I'm not someone you can just hide away from danger, Severus. Danger has been with me ever since I became that fool's friend," and she nodded her head in Potter's direction.

"Still, I…" he trailed off, wanting to continue to tell her it was his fault, but her glare took the words right out of his mouth.

"It was my own fault," she said. "I should not have let Harry's appearance distract me. That was when it all went wrong."

Severus sighed. "You're just going to continue to argue with me if I say otherwise, aren't you?"

Hermione leaned over slowly and kissed the tip of his nose. "Yes. Yes I am."

He sighed again. "Well, I should have been here when you awoke. For that, I truly am sorry. And I'm still sorry you're hurt."

"That's alright to be sorry for. I'm just glad his curse wasn't…" she was the one to trail off this time, but he knew what she was thinking.

He inhaled sharply and stared deeply into her topaz eyes. "Hermione, I don't know what I would have done if—" But she pressed her lips to his again and did not let him continue.

For which he was grateful.

-HG-

Hours had passed. Madam Pomfrey had attended to Hermione some more, with Severus and Harry closely watching. Ron had come in to check on Hermione once he learned she was awake. He gave her an update on Fleur, saying that she wasn't able to get up and walk around yet, but that she was eating and drinking well and happy to see everyone. Apparently, she didn't remember what had happened, which was a symptom of the curse, and so Bill had to fill in the blank spots. Ron still acted perplexed to see Severus at Hermione's bedside, but didn't ask any questions. Things were still awkward between Hermione and him, though it was obvious to her that Ron still cared about her, but was unsure how to express it.

Hermione had been dozing on and off, since the multitudes of potions she was taking caused her to feel drowsy. When she woke and saw that Severus was still there, holding her hand and reading, she felt confused. It was well into the afternoon of the next day, and he should have been teaching.

"Don't you have classes?" Hermione asked.

Severus glanced away from the papers he had been reading and squeezed her hand. "It's Saturday, no one has classes."

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Saturday. Right. Well, I'm not going to be well enough to teach on Monday…"

"And I will be with you until you are fully healed," Severus interjected.

"Don't be silly, Severus. I'm sure in a few days I'll be able to manage taking care of myself."

"I'm not giving you a choice. And, apparently, neither is the Headmistress."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Minerva contacted Slughorn and asked if he could stand in for me this coming week. She says she thought it best that I stay with you." Severus said this with a slight twitch at the corner of his lips.

Hermione let out a quiet laugh. "Well, I'll have to remember to thank the Headmistress when I see her next." She turned her head to see if anyone else was in the Hospital Wing and again spotted the beautiful, dark flowers next to her bed.

"Are these flowers from you?" she asked.

"No, they must be from your secret admirer," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Oh, well then, it seems like you have some competition." She gave him a grin and a wink. In response, his hand squeezed hers again.

"Do you like them?" he asked.

"I love them," she said, her smile widening. "I've never seen them before. What are they?"

"They are of the Dianthus genus, which consists of about 300 species from the flowering family Caryophyllaceae. These particular flowers came from the black and white Minstrels Dianthus."

Hermione giggled and his chest warmed with the sound. "You sound like Neville," she said.

Severus snorted with disgust. "Please, never compare me to Longbottom. I will admit, though, that he knows his plants."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I suppose, if you hadn't terrified him in your Potions class, he could've excelled at brewing potions as well, with all of the natural talent he has in Herbology."

Severus rolled his eyes and Hermione felt her smile widen. "Not every Herbologist is skilled at brewing, my dear."

Hermione giggled again. "Well, I've never seen this flower before," and she gave a small gesture to the flowers he gave her, "but the name, Dianthus, that sounds familiar."

He nodded. "As it should. I mentioned them to you when we were discussing my coffee."

Hermione leaned over and smelled the flowers. "Hang on," she said. "I recognize this smell. This smells like…" she looked up at him, her eyes wide. "These flowers smell like you!"

He gave her one of his rare, sly grins and her heart gave a pleasurable shudder under the sudden warmth in his eyes. "I also use Dianthus in my soaps and shampoos. I've always enjoyed the sweetly bitter scent."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," came Madam Pomfrey's voice. "Severus, I know you'd like to stay with Hermione, but Molly, Arthur and Fleur's parents would like you to check on Fleur and let them know what you think of her condition, and I would like to hear your observations as well."

Severus turned from Madam Pomfrey to Hermione, worry clear in his dark eyes.

"It's alright, Severus. You go and check on Fleur. It's important that we make sure her healing is going well and, seeing as I can't be there, it's best if you go. I'd like to hear how she's doing, too, when you get back."

Severus nodded and made to get up, but Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him to her. She whispered, "Don't be long," and then kissed him. She felt as if she could never kiss him enough, and in that moment she desperately wished she was in bed with him, naked and warm.

When he left, with Madam Pomfrey behind him, it was only Harry left with her, and as he came closer to her bed and looked at her, she folded her arms across her chest and held him with a stern gaze. "Harry—" she began.

"No, Hermione," he interrupted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blamed Snape. I was just… I was _so_ worried. Seeing you like that…it brought back memories of our fifth year…and all the shame and guilt I had felt for putting you in danger that year at the Ministry. And then, to have put you in danger again, to have made the same mistake, I took my own anger towards myself and put it on Snape…"

Hermione's expression softened and she gave him a sad smile. "Harry, when are you going to realize that you can't save everyone from everything?"

He returned her sad smile with one of his own and shrugged, coming to sit beside her. "I guess it's still something I'm learning."

They held one another's gazes in silence for a few moments. Then, his smile growing wider, Harry said, "I never imagined seeing you kiss Snape, but when I did, I could see how much you both care for each other. Is it alright if I stay here with you until he comes back?"

Hermione's smile widened, too. "Of course, Harry. I'm glad you're here."

-SS-

A day passed. Severus was sure to update Hermione on Fleur's condition, informing her that Fleur was still eating regularly and was now able to walk around, though for only short distances. He also explained that she would be moved to St. Mungo's Hospital the following day for further treatment and evaluation but avoided telling her why they wanted to keep her under evaluation. He wasn't yet prepared to tell her about Fleur's lingering symptoms. He did assure Hermione, however, that when she was recovered, they could both go visit Fleur together.

Hermione, miraculously, had improved so much over 24 hours that she was able to be moved from the Hospital Wing to her own room, where Severus and Poppy agreed he should continue to take care of her. The matron hadn't even batted an eye when telling Severus that he should be prepared to stay in Hermione's room with her for the next few days, and Severus couldn't help but remember the first time Poppy had seen him and Hermione together in the entryway to the Hospital Wing those few years ago.

Hermione had been asleep most of Sunday morning, so Severus spent the time in her sitting room, reading and working on lesson plans for Horace. When she woke up around noon, he presented her with breakfast and asked how she was feeling.

"Did you already eat?" Hermione asked him before taking a bite of toast.

"I did. I didn't want to wake you at a normal breakfasting hour. Madam Pomfrey says you need as much rest as your body demands, so I just let you sleep."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you for being here, Severus." She took a sip of her coffee but did not break eye contact with him.

"I would not be capable of being anywhere else…" he replied, and his words rang with honesty. His mind would not allow him to focus on anything else but her when he was not in her presence. He was only able to get any work done so long as he was near her. How strange it was now, the turning of events. Only a mere three days ago it had been the opposite; not being able to focus on anything else unless he was _away_ from her presence. That, of course, he knew, was because of his overwhelming desire for her. And while he still had those desires, the desire for her to heal—to be healthy again—was much more overwhelming.

"Severus? You seem lost in thought."

Her voice broke through his musings and he let his eyes meet hers once more. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I was only thinking of how much I wish for you to be better."

She gave him another warm smile. "Under your care, I'm sure I'll be better in no time at all. What have you been working on?" she asked, peering into her sitting room.

"I had been working on lesson plans for Horace, though I doubt he needs them, but the task allowed me to focus on something while you slept. I also," and he grinned slyly at her, "had just finished reading your article on Patronuses."

Her face lit up, but he also detected a slight flush in her cheeks. "How did you obtain a copy so quickly?"

His grin widened. "Minerva had a copy. I asked her if I could borrow it, and she obliged."

Hermione took another sip of coffee. "And?"

"And that is how I obtained it."

She rolled her eyes. "You _know_ what I mean."

He chuckled and held her hand in his. "Very informative. I could tell how invested you were in the subject from our conversation last week, but your article was much more extensive, and well written. I know Minerva enjoyed it just as much as I."

Her face lit up even more, and with it the warmth inside of him grew. He had not ever known that bestowing her with compliments, _honest_ compliments in fact, could have made him feel so content. For so long he had done nothing but slander her… but he would never do that again. Not intentionally, anyway.

"Thank you, again, for being here, and for the late breakfast," Hermione said, as if not knowing what else to say.

"Of course, Hermione."

They fell into silence, but it was anything but uncomfortable. She leaned over and kissed him, gently at first, then with more passion and pressure. His heart immediately began to race, and he could already feel himself begin to harden, but he knew she was in no state to make love to.

He pulled back and gave her a leer. "If you continue to tempt me, your recovery may last much longer, my love."

She giggled, her cheeks still red. "Sorry. I just… I _really_ wish…"

He put a finger to her mouth to quiet her. She kissed it. "I know, Hermione. I wish we could, too. But for now…let's just focus on getting you healed. And once you are…"

"You'll pull me into bed?" she interjected, hopefully.

"And never let you leave." They kissed again. When Severus pulled back once more he looked down at her plate of food and said, "Now, eat up, my love. And hopefully, very soon, I'll be eating you."

A/N: Thank you all for waiting patiently for my next chapters. It's been taking me about a month to write, edit and post, so I hope you'll hang on with me as I finish this wonderful story. Thank you all for your comments, likes, faves, and continuous support. Find me on Instagram under where I post a lot of Harry Potter pictures and some excerpts of this story!


	35. Chapter 11 - Lui Risponde (He Answers)

Chapter 11

Lui Risponde

(He Answers)

"I have a bone to pick with you, Mr." Hermione was sitting up in her bed, re-reading _Wuthering Heights_ as Severus made her dinner.

"Oh, is that so?" Severus paused his peeling of lettuce and cocked his head in her direction with his eyebrow raised.

"Yes! Why didn't you tell me that Emily Bronte had two sisters who wrote as well?!" Hermione stared at him, indignantly, the book resting on her lap and her arms crossed over her breasts.

Severus chuckled, letting his eyes linger on the way her breasts formed under the pressure of her arms. Then he said, slowly, "I feared you would discover the book Jane Eyre, written by her sister, Charlotte."

Hermione looked genuinely surprised. "Why? You didn't want me to read it?"

Going back to the salad he was preparing he said, "Not from my own collection, certainly not. It is, simply put, a story of a young governess who falls in love with an older gentleman who is twenty years her senior."

Against his better judgement, he turned to look at her again, and saw that she was grinning widely. "And you supposed that if I read it, let alone if you had recommended it to me, you would have been encouraging my interest in you."

"Well..." he faltered as he sliced tomatoes into thin strips. "Yes, precisely that." He could practically feel her grin widen, even though he was determinedly continuing to focus on his slicing.

"I must read it!" She exclaimed, pure excitement and giddiness in her voice. "Do you have it?"

"Of course I have it," he replied automatically, because it was true. He had read the volume at least three times, once in his youth, once as a professor, and once while she had been traveling the world. "I also have Charlotte's other pieces, as well as their other sister, Anne."

"Will you read it to me?"

He turned to her, seeing that her eyes were bright and shining. "Read what to you?"

"Jane Eyre!" She huffed exasperatedly and he couldn't help but smirk at her.

"Must I?"

She seemed to sink down further into her bed as she said, with a mischievous gleam in her brown eyes, "I'm so _weak_ and _feeble_ right now it would be such a chore to hold a book. I'd much rather you read it to me."

Severus scoffed, but he could feel himself smiling. It was so, so very good to be here with her, like this. Her in bed, him making her a nice dinner, them bantering and teasing one another. If only he could crawl into bed with her and cover her with kisses… but she was still too weak. Only a day had passed since she had come to her own room, and making love to her now, how she was, would only prolong her healing.

She seemed to know what he was thinking because she said, seriously, "Severus, it would be nice for you to be here, next to me, instead of across the room."

He gave her a knowing look, which she returned stubbornly. "I'm across the room only to prepare your supper. Your room isn't in the kitchen, my love, but across the room from it."

"Well, perhaps after dinner you could come into bed with me?"

"Hermione…" he began, about to tell her that she still wasn't well enough for what she wanted him to do.

But she cut him off by saying, "To read Jane Eyre to me." And her mischievous smile reappeared as if it had never faded.

-HG-

"What did you think?" Severus asked, putting down the book several hours later and turning to her. He was sitting next to her and staring at her now instead of the book.

It was a lovely story. Jane Eyre. But it caused questions to nag at Hermione; questions she had always wanted to ask Severus, but questions she had been putting off asking him because she did not want to anger or sadden him…and perhaps because she did not want to be turned away without any answers.

"I loved it…" she replied, and she meant what she said, but she couldn't hide the quietness, almost sadness, in her voice.

"Did it tire you, my love? You seem down and exhausted all of the sudden." Severus' eyes searched her face, concerned and apprehensive.

"I'm not tired. I just… well, the story made me think of some things I had been meaning to talk to you about… but things I never knew, and still don't know, how to approach you about. I know you are working on opening up to me, and I understand that, but sometimes I feel nervous about asking you things in fear of being pushed away.

She watched as Severus' eyes grew more worried. He trailed a finger lightly across her cheek and down to her chin. "I am sorry I am causing you discomfort…" he whispered.

She shook her head. "There are just things I want to know about you…things I want to understand…but I'm afraid you won't tell me…"

There was a silence between them now, strained and cold. But then, after a few slow breaths, the tension seemed to dissipate, and Severus was kissing the tip of her nose and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why don't you just ask me, and I will tell you if I'm ready to give you an answer or not."

She could hardly believe it. He was willing to let her ask him anything—anything she wanted. She couldn't imagine him giving that option to anyone. Although, he did still have the right to decline answering her questions, but at least she would be able to ask them.

"And if you're not ready to answer?" she asked, cautiously.

"Then you may ask me again in due time and see if I am ready then." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

She nodded and forced herself to muster up the courage to ask him two of the nagging questions she had had tucked in her mind for well over a year.

"Your love for Lily—for Harry's mother—it kept you going, all those years, watching out for Harry even though you disliked him, and then playing spy for Dumbledore…you put your life at risk because of your love for her." Hermione brought her eyes to meet his and saw him nod his head almost imperceptibly. "Do you… do you still love Lily?"

Severus did not answer right away. He didn't seem upset, or shocked, by her question. Instead he seemed to be pondering; as if he himself did not know quite how to answer the question, or perhaps did not know if he _should_ answer the question.

"I will always love Lily," he finally said, and she felt a pang in her chest at his words. "But that doesn't mean I continue to pine for her. She's gone, and has been gone for a long time now, and Voldemort is gone, and her son is safe, with the exception of his own stupidity." She watched as his lips curled into a smirk. The pain in her chest she had felt melted instantly and she gave a small huff and shook her head, tempted to roll her eyes too for good measure. Then he continued, seriously, without a smirk, "I do still hold love for her in my heart, yes, but that does not mean I am not capable of loving anyone else."

Hermione nodded, and she found that his answer gave her a sense of relief. Gaining courage from his reply, she said, "Lily wasn't a bad person, or a bad friend, but I don't think she deserved you."

This seemed to take him aback. He was quiet for a moment, just staring at her, but finally he asked, "Why do you say that?"

And then it all came rushing out, everything Hermione had thought as she replayed over and over in her mind all she knew of Lily Potter and all she knew of Severus. She had had time to talk to Harry about his mother and her friendship with Severus, and she had had time to get to know Severus as she believed no one else ever had, and she had come to many conclusions about it all.

"Because she didn't love you the way you loved her," she began. "And I don't just mean romantically. I mean, down to her core, she didn't care for you as much as you cared for her. And it doesn't seem like she tried hard enough to reach out to you when you were delving into the Dark Arts and the thought of becoming a Death Eater. If I thought for even a second that Harry was becoming interested in the Dark Arts…I would have slapped him silly immediately, and I have never loved that boy more than brother, yet I still would have done everything in my power to pull him away from the darkness. And, if I had been there with you, as your friend, as your _best_ friend…I would have done all I could to help you see that being a Death Eater wasn't the right way for you to feel like you belonged. I'd try to make you see that you belonged _with me_. Even if I couldn't love you back the way you loved me, I'd still show you that I could be your friend. I don't understand why Lily didn't try harder."

Severus shook his head. "It's not up to us to try to understand what Lily was going through. And it's not fair to blame her for not trying harder to keep me as a friend. I made many mistakes, Hermione. And I was such a horrible friend to her when it came to my fifth year… granted, my personal life was living hell, but she was my closest friend, and I betrayed that friendship. It's my own fault she cut ties with me."

Now it was Hermione's turn to shake her head. "It's not just your fault. For years, Ron acted cruel to me. He said some truly mean things and treated me horribly. But I forgave him, even when he didn't outright apologize. Why? Because his other attributes made up for his cruel actions and words. Plus, he was an idiot teenage boy and I've always been more mature than him. I couldn't expect him to be on my same level, but I valued his friendship and, yes, I loved him. And we stayed friends. So, see, it _is_ Lily's fault, too, not just yours. In most cases, it takes two people to ruin a friendship, just as it takes two people to keep a friendship together."

"And yet you and Weasley are no longer friends now?"

Hermione shifted in her bed uncomfortably and looked down at the bedspread she had spelled a light turquoise color her second night sleeping in the castle. She sighed and finally explained, "We…care about one another. But our lives have gone very, very different directions. And, once he wised up and told me that we wouldn't be good together, letting our lives go different directions felt like the best way for us to…move on…from whatever we might've felt for each other or wanted to have with one another."

"Do you regret that decision now?"

His hematite irises seemed to be searching her soul, but her answer came swift and completely honest. "Absolutely not. It might not have made things easier, but it feels right."

He leaned in and kissed her, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips pressed against hers. Deep in her soul, in every part of her body, being with him felt completely, inescapably, right.

But she still had more questions.

Pulling back from him, and smiling widely, she said, "If you keep kissing me like that then I may decide putting off my recovery is worth it just to have you."

Severus shook his head, but he was smiling. "Was that your only question for me, my love?"

"Actually…no. There is another question I've been pondering… Harry told me that Neville was the other boy the prophecy could've been about. If—if Voldemort had chosen Neville instead of Harry, do you think you would still be a Death Eater?"

Severus took time to ponder this question longer than the one about Lily. For a moment, Hermione thought he might not answer her. Finally, he brought his eyes to hers and replied, "I've thought about that myself, actually, since Dumbledore told me about Longbottom as well. Eventually, I think being a Death Eater would've become too abhorrent…even for me. As you know already, the main reasons I joined were for personal gain, power, and appraisal. But I was young. As things were, by the time I was twenty-five I no longer felt I needed power, nor appraisal. I had enough confidence in myself just by realizing how highly skilled I was in both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Being one of the youngest Potions Masters in all of Europe added immensely to my self-confidence, especially because, contrary to popular rumors back in my earlier years of teaching, Dumbledore did _not_ pull any strings for me to acquire my credentials."

Hermione gaped at him. "There were rumors that you _cheated_ to get your Potion Masters credentials?"

He smirked at her. "I was your age, Hermione. Do _you_ have any credentials under your belt?"

"I could've received mine in Charms if it had been required to teach here."

"Ah, this is true, but yet you are and always have been one of the biggest know-it-alls to attend Hogwarts." His smirk widened.

"I hope you're not intentionally forestalling, Severus," she chided playfully.

He let out a sigh, but she could tell it was only half-hearted. "My current self would like to believe that I would've left the Death Eaters. In order to do that, however, I would have either needed to seek safety with Dumbledore, who I was not too keen on in my younger years, though of course I recognized his power and greatness…or I would have needed to flee, most likely to the Americas, and that would mean leaving everything I knew behind."

"Would that have been so difficult?" Hermione asked, not with condescension, but with curiosity.

"Perhaps not for an older and wiser me, but for my younger self, I would think so. So, to answer you as honestly as I can, I do not know for certain. However, I know I would have never intentionally harmed Lily if it ever came to that, because even if Voldemort had chosen Longbottom, the Potters, I am sure, would've continued to fight alongside Dumbledore, and that is supposing that the same occurrence with Harry did _not_ happen with Neville."

"You mean, the scar and the killing curse backfiring?"

"Precisely. I would assume that Neville's parents loved him enough to make the same sacrifice that Lily made, but the circumstances would have needed to be exact, and who knows…"

"Voldemort, as himself back then, could've survived, and the war would've raged on," she finished for him.

"Yes, possibly." They both fell silent until Severus asked, "Is it really necessary to dwell on a hypothetical past?" Hermione gazed into his eyes as he continued, "I am who I am because of what has already come to be, and you are who you are because of the same."

"You're right, Severus. I'm sorry for prying, I just…"

"Sometimes have your doubts about loving an ex-Death Eater?" He was smirking again, but his eyes remained serious.

"No, not quite that exactly," she replied, seriously. "I'm just trying to imagine what kind of place you'd have to be in to continue to stay a Death Eater. You aren't like the Malfoys, or the Blacks, even. So, it's difficult for me to imagine a younger you."

"And you wish to imagine a younger me?" His smirk grew into a sneer. "Are you longing that I were a younger man, Hermione?"

She swatted him playfully on the arm. "You know I don't wish that. But I feel like I missed out on getting to know you. You've seen the true me for the last ten years of my life. I've only known the true you for the last two and a half."

"I see…"

They fell into a silence, and it seemed as if neither of them knew what to say. Instead of speaking, Severus cupped the left side of her face into the palm of his hand and rubbed his thumb gently over her cheek. She leaned into him and closed her eyes.

"Severus…" she whispered into his hand.

"Yes, Hermione?" he whispered back.

"Will you stay with me?"

He chuckled softly. "I have been, have I not? I promised I would not leave your side until you recov—"

"No," she interrupted, leaning back to once again meet his dark eyes. "I mean…stay with me. Always."

His eyes widened for a split second, then it was as if he was forcing himself to regain his composure. "Hermione…it has barely been a week…"

She dropped her eyes down and nestled her head into his chest, feeling that she had spoken rashly, and fearing now that he would push her away. Sudden tears sprang into her eyes and she continued to use his chest to hide her face from his.

"I'm sorry," she muttered into him.

He ran his fingers through her hair, and for a moment she imagined that she could feel his hand trembling. Maybe it was, but she couldn't will herself to move to find out for herself.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, my love. Let us just…enjoy these moments together, and see what comes. I do not want…" his voice seemed to break for a moment, and she pressed herself closer to him. He pulled in a deep breath and said, "I do not want any of this to be rushed more than it has been. I will not let us ruin our chances due to impulsive decisions or runway feelings. I cannot lose you to ourselves, Hermione. I hope you understand."

She nodded but did not reply.

Severus gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back so he could peer into her face. She did not have time to wipe the moisture away from under her eyes and knew he could see that she had been crying.

She looked away, ashamed, but he gently pulled her chin around so that she was looking at him again. "I need you to understand me, Hermione, I _cannot_ lose you. My mother and father were engaged only six months after knowing one another. They did not _know_ one another, Hermione. And their marriage, and my mother, and my childhood, all suffered because of this. I would never wish that outcome upon anyone, least of all _you_."

Hermione knew what he meant and was shocked that he had mentioned his mother and father and his childhood but could not bring herself to say anything. She believed in her heart that there wasn't anything about Severus that would drive her away from him, but looking into his saddened eyes, she knew that, perhaps, his mother once believed the same thing about his father. While Hermione believed in her heart that she and Severus would be happy together, and they would not be like his parents, she knew it was too early to say such things to him. More time was meant to pass before that could happen.

She nodded slowly, gazing into his pained and open face. She slowly reached up and stroked the side of his face and neck with the tips of two of her fingers. His eyes fluttered close and he sighed. "I cannot lose you, Hermione," he whispered again, and he took the hand that had been caressing him into his own and held it, gently kissing the center of her palm.

"Let's sleep," she whispered to him.

Together they lied down in her bed, holding tightly to each other, and never wanting to let go.

A/N: Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for bearing with me as I slowly update this story that I hold so dear to my heart. Please continue being patient as you have been because your support means so much to me. For those who have found me because of Instagram, thank you so much for reading my story! For those who haven't found my instagram page, it's the user name . I hope you enjoyed this short chapter and I'll be sure to post the next chapter as soon as I can. Thank you all again!


	36. Chap 12-L'amore Guarisce Tutte Le Ferite

Chapter 12

L'amore Guarisce Tutte Le Ferite

(Love Heals All Wounds)

Three more days had passed. Hermione's classes were being covered by Professor McGonagall, who was also adept at Charms. Slughorn was still covering for Severus, as her lover did not want to be without her until she was recovered. Each day, Hermione felt better, and stronger. But it wasn't until she was able to stand on her own that Severus surprised her with a gift.

He led her into her sitting room and a large smile lit up her face at the sight before her. A grand piano, just like the one in Flitwick's old music room, sat in her sitting room. Severus had moved the furnishings, even reducing some of their sizes, to make room for the piano, but Hermione didn't care. The piano was a sight for sore eyes and would soon be music to her ears.

Almost as if in a trance, she walked the few steps to the piano bench, sat down, and placed her fingers onto the smooth ivory keys. The song she played came to her immediately, having not needed even a moment to dwell on. It was the song she had longed to play for him for months and months now.

She could feel his eyes on her as she played but did her best to focus on the music, instead of the longing for him she felt thrumming through her so persistently. Her body ached to be connected to his, but she knew she was still too weak. Playing music for him—connecting them through the romantic reverberations—was as close as she could get to making love to him.

It was a more recent piece, having been released in 1998, and not much at all like Ludovico Einaudi, but it was a song she had learned after the battle to help keep her from slipping into the darkness of her own thoughts while she had been staying in Grimmauld Place with Harry. She wasn't sure if Severus would enjoy it, but it lifted her spirits every time she played it, and it was meaningful to her despite its differences from what she normally played. The song was by the French composer Yann Tiersen, whose other piece "Sur le fil" she had played for Severus before.

When she had finished, she turned to Seveurs and grinned sheepishly at him. "I know it's not what you're used to hearing me play, but—"

"Hermione, hearing you play anything right now brings me joy."

She froze, her mouth hanging open stupidly, hardly believing his words. Her music? Bringing him _joy_? Giving her head a small shake, she closed her mouth and met his eyes with a playful smile. "Joy? Who are you and what have you done with my Severus?"

He returned her smile with a sinister sneer. "Don't get used to hearing me say such things, my love. It's only because you're ill. I know a good confidence boost heals most sicknesses along with the necessary potions."

Hermione let out a small giggle. "Ah, there he is." She put her hands to the keys again but was halted by his hand suddenly on her waist. She sucked in a quick breath and looked up at him, questioning him with her eyes.

"Could you please play my favorite song? A song you played for me once before." His voice was soft, his tone deep, and the breath from his whisper tickled her right ear. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

"I… did not know you had a favorite. Which is it?"

"Dietro L'incanto," he whispered.

She felt a shiver run up her spine as memories from the night she had first played him that song rushed to the forefront of her mind. How different things were now between them. And how wonderful that was.

"Of course," she replied, and began to play with as much feeling as she could muster.

As soon as she finished, she felt him bend over and kiss the top of her head. He had stood behind her the entire time she had played, but she didn't mind—she liked him to be close to her. He continued to kiss her temple, down to her cheek, down to her jaw. She turned to him and their noses rubbed gently together, their eyes closed, and her lips sought his.

The kiss started sweet, but soon became passionate, full of need, full of desire. Catching her breath, Hermione whispered, "Make love to me."

"My love, you are still recovering…" but to her his reply sounded half-hearted.

"Take me to bed and make love to me," she insisted, gazing intensely into his eyes.

"Hermione, I don't think…" and this reply was even more feeble than before.

She rested her hand on his bicep and squeezed gently. "Please, just try, for me…"

As if those had been the words he had been waiting to hear, Severus swept her gently into his arms as if she weighed of nothing. He proceeded to lie her down in bed, leaning over her and bringing his mouth to hers.

"Promise me, please, that you will tell me if you are in pain, and we will stop. It will be of little pleasure to me if you are hurting," he whispered into her mouth.

She nodded, then began kissing him and unbuttoning his shirt.

-S.S.-

He was acting against his better judgement. He knew that. But he also knew that he was so ready to be inside of her again, and that every kiss was making him want her even more, and that she was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and making her way down farther.

Oh, how he had been aching for this for many days now.

Not wanting to make her work any harder, he finished undressing himself and then, with the flick of his wand, had her clothes off her and piled neatly on the bedroom dresser. She laughed as he crawled onto the bed, his body over hers, and he smiled without thought. He couldn't remember any other time in his life when he had smiled as much as since he had been with her.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Hermione?" he asked, very seriously, his smile faltering slightly.

Hermione grinned and suddenly he felt her had wrap around his hardened penis. He felt his eyes widen at the unexpected and extremely pleasurable touch. "Severus," she said, staring directly into his eyes as her hand slowly began to squeeze and massage his member. "Didn't you know that love is the best healing magic in the world?" Then with a cat-like grin, or perhaps kneazle-like would be more accurate, she brought her lips to his and gently sucked on his bottom lip.

Groaning, he brought his hips down to press against hers, and did his best to remain gentle with her as their kissing grew more passionate and as her hips began to gyrate in a seductive rhythm. Bringing his mouth to her right breast he swirled his tongue around her nipple and then lightly sucked, which resulted in delightful little moans from his lover. Inspired, he moved to her left breast and continued the same ministrations, adding onto them by taking his hand and slowly easing his index finger into her opening.

Another moan, louder this time, escaped from her and, still paying attention for signs of discomfort and sounds of pain, he slid in another finger and began massaging her in earnest. Soon she was wet and open enough for him to slide himself inside, which he did as slowly as possible. It took a lot of self-restraint to hold himself back from ramming himself into her with incessant desire, but he wanted nothing more than Hermione to be comfortable.

"How do you feel?" He asked her once he was completely inside her.

"It feels good," she said quietly, " _You_ feel good," and when he looked into her eyes he saw only honesty and happiness.

"I'll go slow," he promised, and cautiously began rocking his body back and forth in the rhythm of love making.

It felt so, so wonderful to be with her like this once more. And he could tell she was enjoying it as well. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were closed in concentration as she massaged her clit with her fingers, matching the rhythm he was undulating over her and inside her.

He came quicker than he had expected, and the release was so overwhelming that his entire body trembled above her. As he shuddered, he felt her grip onto his arms and heard her labored breathing hitch up into small moans of pleasure and he knew she was coming as well, which only seemed to enhance the thrilling waves of ecstasy he was experiencing.

Minutes later he rolled off her and laid by her side in the bed. "Gods, thank you so much, Hermione." He let out a long sigh of pure contentment.

His eyes were closed but he felt her fingers gently massage his bare chest. "Thank _you_ , Severus."

His skin crawled with pleasure at the sound of his name on her lips. If he hadn't felt so exhausted, he might've rolled on top of her and started the whole process over again.

He opened his eyes and glanced over at her to see she also had her eyes closed. "You are alright?" he asked quietly.

She nodded her head. "Just tired," she replied.

Severus grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently, then was falling asleep before he could help himself.

-H.G.-

They had both fallen asleep. The sleep after their love making felt so deep and restful that when Hermione awoke to hear him moving around in the bathroom, she was surprised to find it had only been a couple hours as opposed to what had felt like a good night's sleep.

"Severus?" she called, sitting up in bed and looking towards the bathroom.

But what came out of the bathroom wasn't Severus… or was it?

Her mouth opened in disbelief as a beautiful Wampus stalked out of the bathroom and came towards the bed. Its eyes were a deep black, with the same shine as her lover's eyes, and they held her gaze steadily. The creature looked exactly like the wild Wampus she had seen during her travels to America, except that this Wampus had black ears as opposed to the normal brown.

"Hermione?"

The voice was coming from the Wampus, though the lips didn't move, and the voice was unmistakably Severus'.

Continuing to gape, she brought her legs over the side of the bed and made to move towards the beautiful, magical creature.

Then she woke up.

And she was not at all comfortable.

"Oohhh…" she let out a moan of pain and clutched her legs, where the most pain was coming from at that moment, though she felt sore all over.

"Hermione!" Severus was by her side instantly, though she hadn't seen where he had come from. "What's wrong?" He immediately placed his hands over hers and she could see his eyes assessing her discomfort.

"It's my legs…they feel cramped up all over. I feel sore all everywhere, but it's the worst in my legs…"

Severus sighed loudly, almost angrily, but Hermione could tell it was out of frustration more than anything. "I knew it was too soon…" he shook his head, his black hair falling on either side of his face, reminding Hermione vividly of the black ears of the Wampus in her dream.

"Severus, I'm—it's okay," she started to say, but Severus turned to her and placed his hands gently on either side of her face.

"Shhhh, Hermione, please," he rubbed his fingers along her cheeks. "Don't speak right now unless you have to. I'm going to get the potion I was working on yesterday. Hopefully it will help with the pain you're experiencing."

Though she wanted to protest, she thought it best to appease him by lying back and staying as still as she could.

Severus was back within a few minutes with a vial of what appeared to be a potion that was muddy grey in color and smelled both bitter and fresh at the same time. "Drink this," he said, holding out the vial so she could take it.

"What is it?" she asked, taking it and holding it to her nose to get a better hold on the contradicting smells.

"Do you not trust my potion brewing skills, my love?" Severus asked. His mouth formed a sneer, but his eyes seemed serious, and still full of concern.

Hermione shook her head and took a sip. The taste was very bitter. "I don't doubt you, Severus, but I do enjoy _knowing_ what I'm drinking."

His sneer widened and his eyes shown brightly. "It's a potion of my own invention."

Hermione balked, and peered down at the vial and the rest of its continents with more doubt in her expression than she meant for him to see.

He laughed his deep, jovial laugh she only heard him use when he was truly amused. "I am very frequently brewing my own potions, Hermione. You should know this by now. Besides, this potion will be harmless if it does not work," he explained.

"And if it does?" Hermione asked.

"It will paralyze you, I'm sure."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. It was only when he leaned in and kissed her nose that she understood he was… joking.

"You were… that was… Severus Snape," she said, trying to remain as serious as she could under the circumstances, "did you just make a _joke_?"

"I think I've proven to you by now that I am capable of making snide comments and remarks for my own amusement. Did you think I was not able to make something as simple as a jest?"

Hermione shook her head and drained the vial. "So, when should I expect to become paralyzed?"

His sneer was now a grin as he answered, "Hopefully within a few minutes."

Like he said, the effects of the potion did occur within minutes. Instead of feeling paralyzed, Hermione's pain and discomfort immediately seemed to vanish. The areas where she had felt sore and sharp stabs of pain now felt normal. She could still move those areas of her body just fine but could no longer feel any pain.

"Severus, what did you just give me? I feel…"

"Much better, I hope."

"Unbelievably better. No other potion has made me feel like I've taken the strongest pain medication available," Hermione replied. She sat up, leaning back against the headboard of the bed frame.

"Easy, my love," Severus said, resting his hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her, preventing her from sitting up completely. "You may feel at ease, but your body is actually still in pain. The potion I gave you just blocks all pain receptors from reaching your brain. It's a useful potion, but dangerous to take without someone around to help you."

Hermione laid back once more and smiled up at him. "Luckily for me, I have you."

They smiled contentedly at one another for a few long seconds, then Severus leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Is this a new potion you've been working on?" Hermione then asked, still amazed that she could no longer feel any pain.

"Yes, indeed. I've been experimenting with the key ingredients Deadly Nightshade and White Fir for quite some time now. Your recent injuries encouraged me to advance my previous findings."

Hermione giggled lightly. "I'm glad my inconvenient injuries were able to help in some way." She leaned into his hand as he cupped the side of her face and she closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of him.

"Do you feel any other side effects?" he asked quietly, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I just feel very content, but I'm not sure if that's because I'm here with you, or also because of the potion," she admitted.

"I guess you're not exactly the most helpful test subject," he teased.

They stayed like that for a while, until Severus asked if she needed to use the restroom and offered to help her there. As she was on the toilet, she remembered the strange dream she had just before waking.

"Severus, I had an incredibly lucid dream just before waking." And Hermione told him about the dream, not knowing exactly how he would reply or what he would think of it. She had never talked to him about dreams before.

"Well, I do remember you making a comment to me previously that you encountered a wild Wampus on your travels. Maybe your subconscious was thinking of that Wampus while you were thinking of me. And, since my Patronus is a Wampus, perhaps that is why I appeared as a Wampus in your dream."

Hermione frowned, but saw that his conclusions made sense. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of how _real_ the dream had felt, even upon waking.

"Where did you see a wild Wampus, if I may ask?"

"Oh, that's right," Hermione realized suddenly. "I never actually told you where I saw one. I went backpacking in the Himilayas while visiting America and on my second day I came across one. Supposedly it's very rare to see one in the wild. I just wish I had thought to bring a camera," she sighed.

"It is _very_ rare to see a Wampus. Were you alone at the time?"

"Yes, I was usually alone on my travels."

"You must have been frightened," Severus said.

Hermione smiled. "More in awe than frightened. And I also remember immediately thinking of you and your Patronus. Around the time I had seen the Wampus I had been trying to decide what I wanted to do once I came back to Britain. I had been thinking of coming to work at Hogwarts and seeing the Wampus seemed to only increase my resolve to come work here."

He smiled back at her. "I'm not sure I believe in magical signs, but if they do exist, maybe that was one."

She nodded. "I like to think it was… Have you traveled anywhere recently?"

"I traveled the summer after you left as well as this past summer," Severus confessed.

"Really? Why?" She asked, thinking of possible reasons but wanting to hear them from him.

"I needed to keep my mind focused, and sometimes brewing potions can only help so much. I traveled to Ethiopia first to collect rare bezoars from the goats there. The following summer I traveled to Lake Wanaka in New Zealand to collect some Oxygen Weed. Both are rare potion ingredients, and while useful to my potion brewing here, they are also useful to other Potioneers as well. I was able to sell some of what I collected for a good sum and keep the rest for my own stores."

Hermione gaped at him. "You traveled all that way for _potion ingredients_?"

Severus' smile widened, presumably because of the incredulous look on her face. "Yes, Hermione. I am rather a _serious_ Potioneer. Sometimes we have to travel quite a way to gather our own potion ingredients if we don't want to spend a fortune on them because we choose the easier way and buy them off someone else who has spent the time collecting them."

"I…just…never imagined you _traveling_ ," she admitted, somewhat abashed.

Severus helped her from the restroom back into bed and got in alongside her. "Are you still feeling alright?"

"The same."

"Would you like to try to sleep some more?"

"Only if you'll stay here with me for a while," she replied.

"Of course."

Hermione was beginning to doze off when she remembered a question she had been meaning to ask Severus. It was something she remembered him saying to her a few days back when they had been talking about his younger years.

"Why was your personal life hell in your fifth year?" she asked quietly, turning over and lying on her side to face him fully.

He seemed to be taken aback by the question, but then as if remembering his own words from a few days earlier he sighed and said, "Perhaps…that is a story I should tell some other time."

"Some other time as in a little later, or some other time as in never?" Hermione asked, attempting to keep the hurt and frustration out of her tone.

"It is a story not even Lily nor Dumbledore knew, Hermione, and he knew about me more than any other. Give me some time to work up to telling you the darkest pieces of my gloomy past."

She didn't reply, but let him kiss her gently, before she fell into another deep sleep once again.

Author's Note: Hey guys, thank you so much for bearing with me as my uploads have become slower and slower. Unfortunately my life has gotten a bit crazy AND I'm going through a bit of a writer's block...both things not fun for me to experience when I love this ship SO MUCH. So, while this chapter is short, here you go. The next one could take another 2 months to get posted, so please continue to bear with me. Thank you thank you for all of your likes, love and comments!


	37. Chapter 13 - Ricordi di Natale

Chapter 13

Ricordi di Natale

(Christmas Memories)

-S.S.-

It was now November, and Hermione was fully healed. She had been back teaching Charms for two days, and Severus had been back to teaching potions. Other than teaching, they had both been following up with Fleur. Luckily, she was fully healed now as well, except for her lingering depression. Both Bill and Fleur understood, with the help of Madam Pomfrey and Severus, that she might need to be on mood stabilizing potions for the rest of her life.

While Severus was overjoyed that Hermione was back to normal, he missed taking care of her. Never before had he doted on someone like he had her, and to have it suddenly stop felt strange to him. However, he knew from her obvious happiness that she was relieved to be back at work instead of ill and unable to be active. And he also had to admit that being able to make love to her without her being in pain was much, much better.

It was late on a Saturday night when Severus and Hermione were lying in bed together, his arm around her back and she nestled into the side of his body, when she posed an idea to him that he never had thought she would have suggested.

"We should ask McGonagall to teach us how to become Animagi."

Taken aback by her words, which seemingly had come out of nowhere, he found himself balking openly at her for a good second. Then, recovering himself, he smirked at her and said, "That, my dear, is one of the most unusual ideas you have ever said to me."

She rolled her eyes at him, which only caused his smirk to widen.

"Yes, it would seem unusual to you, but to me, it makes perfect sense. I've been thinking about becoming an Animagus for some time now, actually," she explained.

His interest peeked, he asked, "And why would you like to go through the agonizingly dreadful steps that such a task would involve?"

"It would be worth it," was all she said in reply, and something in her eyes and tone made his playful demeanor slip.

"It truly has been on your mind for some time?" He asked carefully.

She nodded but didn't continue.

"Would you care to tell me why it has been on your mind, or is it too…personal?" Severus understood the need to have secrets. Having secrets was second nature to him. But he was so used to Hermione being open with him, and so used to her trying to convince _him_ to open up, that he was a bit unsettled by the thought of her keeping a secret herself.

"I'm afraid you'll think I've gone mad—or that I'm silly—or both," she admitted, keeping her gaze downcast.

Severus smiled, leaned over slightly, and kissed her gently on the head, enjoying the sweet scent coming from her bushy hair. "I already know you're mad and silly, my love. No need to worry."

Hermione let out a small giggle followed by a huff of impatience. That only made him kiss her head again.

"Severus, I keep having these dreams about you—well, at first they were only about you, but then they involved me, too, except we weren't _us_ , we were animals. I was a kneazle and you were a wampus and we could talk to each other. The more I had these dreams, the more I thought about what it would be to actually _be_ an animal, and how we could learn to become Animagi. Then I thought how being an Animagus could help us—keep us safe…"

"You're the one who has been in mortal danger, Miss Granger, not myself," Severus corrected her playfully.

"You were in just as much danger as I was, Severus. I may be targeted by many dark witches and wizards, but so are you. You betrayed the most evil wizard of our age and all of his followers."

"I know this, Hermione. But I am more adept at dueling and fearing for my life and safety than you are."

Hermione turned to glare at him and opened her mouth to argue, but Severus continued, "I know you are a highly capable witch, my dear, but I have literally _years_ more of experience in these matters than you. I fear for your safety more than my own, and not because you are incompetent, but because I have survived through more than you have and, frankly, I never want you to have to experience the things I have."

He could tell she was taken aback at his long and thoughtful response because she just stared at him for a few long seconds with her lips parted and her eyes wide.

"So… would you like to become an Animagus with me, Severus?" she finally asked.

He took a moment to think about it. Becoming an Animagus had never seemed appealing to him in the past—he never liked the idea of becoming an animal less intelligent then the one he already was, for all humans were animals themselves. He knew that he would still retain his human intellect once he transformed, but he would still be limited to whatever form he took, and changing form wasn't appealing to him, nor was the tiresome process it took to become an Animagus. But it seemed important to Hermione, and if she felt that becoming an Animagus would keep her safe, he didn't see the harm in it.

"I think we should approach Minerva about the idea, and see what she has to say," was what Severus chose to say in response.

Hermione seemed pleased with that answer. She smiled and sunk further into him, nestling her head on his upper chest and sighing softly. Severus was quite sure this was one of his favorite feelings in the entire world.

-H.G.-

The following day, as suggested, Hermione and Severus met with Minerva to propose to her the idea of learning to become Animagi. As Hermione suspected, the Headmistress was receptive and supportive of the idea. She agreed to coach them both through the process and suggested that their preparation wait until the summer when they would not have to teach classes and when there was a higher chance of electrical storms. Hermione didn't much like the idea of waiting, but if Minerva was suggesting it then she knew it was probably for the best.

"I also wanted to let the both of you know that I will be allowing you both, along with Molly, to leave Hogwarts during Christmas break," the Headmistress said before Hermione and Severus were about to leave her office.

Hermione watched as Severus' dark eyebrows raised in surprise. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" he asked, always suspicious.

"I foresee Hermione receiving a letter soon, and I don't want to spoil anything," was all that Minerva said in reply, but her eyes were twinkling.

Sure enough, the following day Hermione received a letter by owl from Harry and Ginny, inviting her to Grimmauld Place for Christmas. In a separate letter that came soon after just from Harry, Hermione learned that Harry was planning to propose to Ginny on Christmas and really wanted Hermione to be there. He mentioned that she could bring _a guest_ if she wanted, and her heart sunk when she realized Harry still wasn't ready to admit that she loved Severus—instead of inviting him by name, he just wrote "feel free to bring a guest with you if you want".

When she posed the idea to Severus, she completely expected him to decline, though she was hoping he would say yes. They still hadn't announced their relationship to anyone other than Minerva, and though Hermione thought that both Madam Pomfrey and Molly suspected, she and Severus still hadn't confirmed it. So, it was to her complete and utter surprise when Severus agreed to come. They had been lounging in his sitting room, on the same couch where she had slept multiple times before, when she had posed the question to him.

"You…wait…you're going to come with me?" She knew her eyebrows were probably touching her hairline in surprise.

Severus smirked openly. "What? Do you _not_ want me to come?"

"No—I just—it's just that—" Hermione was spluttering and by the look on his face she knew Severus was enjoying watching her. "I just thought... since we haven't really _told_ anyone about our relationship, that you wouldn't want to go with me."

"Well, the entire school and its faculty aren't going to be there, are they? I suppose I could tolerate going to an event with you if it's just going to be the Weasleys and Potter."

"I think Teddy and Andromeda might be there, too," Hermione said, nervously.

"Even better." His expression hadn't changed, nor had his tone, but she thought she saw a hint of concern in his eyes.

"I honestly can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not, but I'm erring on the side of sarcasm," she said, sighing.

He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her gently on the forehead as he was prone to do. "I'm going to be sarcastic, my love. I hate social events. But for you, I'll bear it."

"That makes me so happy, Severus." And it truly did. Knowing that the anti-social, brooding Professor Snape was willing to go to a Christmas party with her warmed her insides. "Thank you."

-S.S.-

Severus did not _want_ to go to the party, but he knew it would be important to Hermione that he went. And after what she had already suffered from this term, he figured that it was in his best interest to attend the party with her. He was not an idiot, though. He knew what to expect. The Weasleys would be painfully obviously surprised, and Potter would be doing his best to be happy for Hermione even though he wasn't happy for Severus, and Andromeda and the young Edward, or Teddy as everyone seemed to be calling him, would be blissfully unaware of any awkward tension, resulting in even more awkward tension for the rest of the party members. He knew that it would be so easy for the party to go up in flames by just his being there, let alone him being there with the brilliant—and young—war hero Hermione Granger.

He was not looking forward to the night, but as he told his lover, he would bear it for her. He was beginning to realize there were many things he was willing to do just to see her smile, and hear her say his name, and feel her warm body pressed against his own. He wanted her, but he did not expect others to be happy with their coupling. The fact that Minerva and Poppy seemed fine with it was shocking to him enough, but he did not foresee the same acceptance from the Weasleys.

"What should I wear?" Hermione asked him the day of the party. They had been lounging in her sitting room when she got up suddenly and went to her bedroom. She emerged holding up two dresses; one that was flowy and light that ended just above her knees and was a soft white in color with golden trim, while the other dress came down to her heals but was much more slim and sleek, dark green in color with a sparkling white trim.

While he himself was not interested in fashion, he decided to take advantage of this particular occasion. Smirking, he told Hermione, "I could decide better if you tried each one on for me." His voice was as silky and smooth as he could possibly make it.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "What if I want to _surprise you_ by wearing the one you choose _without_ you seeing it on me first?"

"That may be fun for you, but it isn't nearly as fun for me," he replied back swiftly.

"How about, this time, I'll try them on for you. But next time—"

"Next time?" He felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

"Obviously this isn't the only time you and I are going to go out together."

"Oh, obviously?"

"Yes, obviously." And she laid both dresses down on her bed. "So, this time I'll try them on, since you're still getting used to seeing me in dresses," she was facing away from him, pulling off her blouse and then her bra.

He could practically feel himself ready to growl in irritation. He knew she was purposefully facing away from him—playing coy. The minx.

"And then the next time we go somewhere, and I want your input," she continued, pulling down the black slacks she had been wearing and revealing the peach colored panties she had on. "I can show you the outfit and you can choose without me trying it on first. That way it's an even trade-off."

She giggled when he wrapped his hands around her front to gently squeeze her breasts. "Are you sure we need to go to this party? Why not just spend Christmas Eve here, in bed?"

Hermione turned to face him and placed her arms over his shoulders and her hands lightly on the back of his neck. They were warm. She looked up at him, tilting her head so that the brown of her eyes shown slightly, and asked, "Is that what would make you happy, Severus? To not go to the party and to just stay here, with me?"

He chose to answer with a question. "Would it make _you_ happy?"

She paused, biting her lower lip. He suddenly imagined himself being the one biting it. The image sent a small shiver straight down to his groin. "It would make me happy…" she began.

"But?" he prompted, knowingly.

"I was really hoping to get to see Harry propose to Ginny," she continued, as if confessing a secret. Perhaps it was a secret. Perhaps she was the only one who knew of Harry's intentions.

He felt himself let out a deep hum from in the back of his throat. "Then, we must go."

She met his eyes, her own filled with surprise.

"I shall not have you feeling any regret for our first proper Christmas together. Come, try on your dresses for me. Then I will show you what I will be wearing."

 _That_ got her attention.

-H.G.-

It turned out that Severus Snape did, in fact, own a pair of dress robes.

When Hermione first saw him pulling the distinguished robes out of his wardrobe, she could hardly believe her eyes. They were mostly black but had a dark green trim barely noticeable around the collar and cuffs. She couldn't wait to see him in it.

"Severus Snape. You own _dress robes_?" she blurted.

He sneered at her. "Yes, Hermione, I do. I have had to attend a funeral or two in my time."

She rolled her eyes. Of course it would be to attend a funeral. No weddings or fancy parties for this snarky wizard. He hadn't worn dress robes to the Yule Ball her fourth year, and he hadn't worn dress robes to Slughorn's Christmas party her sixth year, so she had always just assumed he didn't own a pair.

"I had intended to wear these to Albus' funeral, but those plans were dashed when he told me I was the one who would need to kill him. I suppose I'll just have to wear them when Minerva dies."

"Severus!" Hermione admonished. "That's hardly something to joke about on Christmas Eve!"

"I wasn't joking. I have only ever worn these robes to funerals. But since you are going to this party looking so ravishing, I can't simply wear my normal robes. I have to come off as an imposing figure to any young men there who may want to sweep you out of my arms."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Don't be so ridiculous, Severus. The only men there will be Harry, Ron, Ron's brothers, and Arthur. None of them have any interest in me."

"They may change their minds once they see you in that dress," he growled.

"I don't have to wear it if you don't want me to," she teased. She was wearing the tight-fitting green and white dress with matching sling back heels.

"You minx," he said, coming up to her and pulling her into him with a forceful grip. "I'm the one who picked it, so you're going to wear it."

She wasn't used to him being so commanding or aggressive, but she found she didn't mind it, especially now that she was feeling fully healed. If he wanted her stuck to him like glue, she didn't mind, because she wanted him in the same way. In fact, his behavior was kind of turning her on.

"Well fine then," she said, gently shoving his upper chest. "Get dressed. We have an appearance to make."

They arrived to 12 Grimmauld Place just in time for Christmas Eve dinner. Everything was in an uproar, of course, because Mrs. Weasley was bustling around and insisting that her sons help her with the last minute table preparations, and Teddy (who was getting so very big already) was throwing a temper tantrum because Andromeda would not let him play with her wand. Harry and Ginny were both glowing, of course. It had been so long since the family had all been together that Hermione knew it was like a wish come true for the happy couple.

The most awkward part of their arrival had been the look on Ron and Lavender's face. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all took Severus' appearance in stride, or at least they purposefully hid any surprise or discomfort, but Ron and Lavender's faces could be read like an opened book on display in Flourish and Blotts. Ron had nearly dropped his glass of firewhisky, and Lavender was squeezing onto his arm, her eyes wide, as if she were seeing Hagrid's three-headed dog Fluffy for the first time.

 _Honestly_ , Hermione thought irritably, _I would've thought that Harry would have at least warned Ron who I might be bringing._

Severus, to Hermione's relief, took everything in stride. He was a bit more tense than she had seen him recently, but very cordial; shaking everyone's hands and nodding his head and looking sincere when he told Harry and Ginny he was pleased to be there. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long for dinner.

Harry cleared his throat nervously and the Weasleys, Andromeda, Hermione and Severus, all looked down the table at him to wear he sat next to Ginny. He stood and said, "I would like to make an announcement."

Hermione's heart pounded. Was this it? Was this going to be when Harry proposed to Ginny?

Harry continued, "As many of you know, I have been trying to decide if I should keep Grimmauld Place or pass it on. After some thought, Ginny and I have decided that we would like to keep Grimmauld Place and make it a winter and summer home for any student who attends Hogwarts who does not have a home of their own to go to during the holidays."

There was a silence that followed, everyone looking at Harry and Ginny in amazement, and wanting Harry to say more.

"We haven't figured out all the details yet, but we do know that Headmistress McGonogall is in agreement with the idea, and that we will need to find volunteers for the winter and summer holidays to watch over the students while they stay here. Our intent," Harry said, and he looked lovingly down at Ginny when he said this, "is to prevent any student from feeling left out or unloved by having to go back to an orphanage or an abusive home. I know from experience that it can be one of the worst feelings in a young witch's and wizard's life to be separated from the magical world, or to be forced into an abusive family situation, and Ginny and I would like to do what we can to help others avoid those experiences."

"Harry, Ginny, that's a great idea!" Bill exclaimed, raising his drink.

"So thoughtful," Fleur agreed, smiling warmly.

"Smashing!" Charlie added with a large grin.

"But where will the two of you live?" Molly asked, concern in her tone.

"Harry and I are still looking for places, but we would like to live somewhere in the country, like you and Dad," Ginny replied.

"Though we would probably come to Grimmauld Place for the winter and summer holidays," Harry added. "To help with overseeing the students who live here."

"But if we get volunteers to help," Ginny continued, and Hermione could have sworn she saw the red-head's eyes flash in her direction, "then we may not need to come here for the entirety of both holiday breaks. Like Harry said, we are still working on the finer details, but it is something that we both really want to do to help others."

Arthur nodded. "I think it's a grand idea, you two. Let us know how we can help, when the time comes."

Harry and Ginny both beamed.

Hermione stole a glance at Severus to see his reaction to this news, but he was casually studying his glass of elderflower wine. She tried not to be bothered by this and hoped they would eat soon; hoping that might put him in a better mood.

"Let's eat!" Ron said, right on que.

The dinner was delicious, and everyone was talking cheerfully with the exception of Severus, who answered hesitant questions without much interest, as if he were bored. Hermione figured that was how he responded to a vast majority of awkward social situations, but she still found herself slightly annoyed all the same. As more wine and firewhiskey was passed around, and as the dinner turned to dessert, Hermione noticed that Ron was eyeing her and Severus with the same intense displeasure as when Hermione had been with Victor Krum at the Yule Ball.

Hermione found Severus' hand under the table and squeezed it. She leaned over and whispered, "Are you hanging in there?"

He smirked in response and lightly squeezed her hand back, which she took as a good sign.

The sound of a knife clinking on a glass interrupted the chatter around the table and everyone looked back to Harry, who had been the one to make the sound.

"I have one last announcement to make," he said, and Hermione saw him reach into the pocket of his robes. "Ginny Weasley," he began, turning to face Ginny with his face flushed and his eyes bright, "I'm still sorry it took me so many years to realize you were the perfect witch for me, but finally I wised up, and I'm so glad you still fancied me," Hermione and a few of the others chuckled. Ginny was blushing and there were already tears in her eyes. "I love you, Ginny." Harry got down on one knee. Mrs. Weasley let out a small gasp, Fleur clasped her hands together, and Bill and Mr. Weasley exchanged knowing looks with each other. Harry stared up into Ginny's bright eyes and asked, "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Ginny let out a happy sob, and even though she wasn't known for crying like Hermione was, tears of happiness were falling down her face as she nodded enthusiastically and answered, "Yes. Absolutely, of course, YES!"

Everyone clapped, including Severus who put his hands together very briefly and wasn't exactly smiling—more like grimacing—but Hermione was so happy for Harry and Ginny she didn't much care in that moment; she was just so excited for them, and glad to be there to witness it.

After many hugs and happy laughter and congratulations and more tears from Fleur and Mrs. Weasley, the group calmed down and went back to drinking and eating more dessert. Severus leaned over to Hermione and whispered in her ear that he needed to use the restroom. She squeezed his hand again and nodded. Once he left, Ron left Lavender talking to Fleur and Ginny and approached Hermione.

"Can I, uh, can we talk in the hallway?" he asked, his voice low and nervous.

"As long as we keep our voices down low enough, with Sirius' mum and all," Hermione replied, jokingly, trying to ease the tension she felt between them. But Ron didn't seem to be in a joking mood and he just nodded, solemnly.

When they made it into the hallway, Ron gently tugged Hermione's arm and she turned to look at him. "Hermione, what the bloody hell is Snape doing here?"

Hermione sighed and forced herself not to roll her eyes. "Ron, Harry honestly didn't tell you who my date would be?"

" _Date_?!" Ron repeated, clearly baffled.

Hermione sighed again. "Apparently that would be a 'no'. Listen, Ron, I've been seeing Severus. We got together shortly after I started working at Hogwarts."

"But… Hermione… he's… he's _SNAPE_."

"Yes, Ronald, I'm aware of who he is. And he's a different man from how we knew him when we all went to school together."

"Hermione, he's a horrible git."

"He's really _not_ , Ron. How he acted as a professor was exaggerated, on Dumbledore's orders. You and Harry weren't there my last year, you both wouldn't understand. He's _different_. Even Neville will admit that to you if you ask him—"

Ron cut her off by shaking his head and holding up his hand. "Hermione, can you hear yourself right now? This is Snape we're talking about, not some—"

But a low, threatening voice interrupted.

"She has already told you that she knows who she's talking about." Hermione spun her head in time to see Severus coming from the other end of the hallway. In his well-fitted dress robes he was an imposing figure, even though he and Ron were about the same height, Ron being possibly even taller. But Severus was squaring off with Ron as if he were still his old professor, radiating the demand for respect and fear as he came to stand beside Hermione.

Ron's face seemed to pale, but he stood his ground. "I don't believe this," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Have you coerced her in some way? You are a potions master, after all," he added with venom and distrust in his tone.

Hermione felt Severus tense beside her. She expected his hand to flinch towards his wand but was surprised when instead he just sneered and replied, "You never were very intelligent, Mr. Weasley. But I would have thought you knew Hermione well enough to know that she is not a woman easily coerced—or fooled."

Ron crossed his arms defensively. "You aren't my professor anymore, Snape. I don't have to take this shit from you anymore."

Hermione could feel herself tense beside Severus as well. Ron always was one for cursing, but she knew he was getting to the end of his short rope once he started. If she didn't diffuse this situation soon, she knew nothing good would come from it.

"Listen, please, Ron, I know you don't understand, but I _want_ to be with Severus, and I have wanted that ever since my last year at Hogwarts. I even went on that long trip to see if being away from Severus would change my mind, but it only increased my wanting to be with him. If you want to know more, that's fine, we could talk later, but it's nearly Christmas. Why can't we all just get along?"

Ron laughed meanly. "Get along? Hermione, when have we ever gotten along with Snape?"

"Hermione," interjected Severus. "It's no use trying to get Weasley to understand. He never has been—"

Ron made a sudden movement and snarled at Severus, "If you continue to insult me—"

Severus responded by reaching for his wand.

"Stop!" Hermione held up both hands, one in front of Ron and the other in front of her lover. "Ron, if you don't stop now, we're going to leave."

"Speak for yourself, Hermione," Severus hissed suddenly. "I _am_ leaving." And just like that, as Hermione turned to stare at him with incredulity, Severus disapparated on the spot and was gone.

Hermione and Ron stood there in silence for a second, and then Hermione felt Ron place a consoling hand on her shoulder as he said, "See, Hermione. He's not good for you."

Hermione spun on him and slapped him right across the face. "No, Ron. _You're_ not good for me. And you have no idea what just happened." She walked towards the spot where Severus disappeared and then turned to face Ron, who was standing in the same spot, seemingly struck dumb. "Tell the others Severus and I said we're sorry, and that something came up." With as much malice in her voice as she could muster, she threatened, "If you tell them _anything_ about what happened between the three of us, I will lock you, naked and wandless, in a room full of acromantulas."

And with that, she disapparated.

-S.S.-

Severus had never liked Christmas. His idea of a pleasant Christmas was sitting by the fireside and drinking elderflower wine and reading a good book. If it was snowing, sometimes he enjoyed watching the snow fall out of one of the castle's windows, but usually he was in his chambers, alone, enjoying the solitude. He had tried his best to make Hermione happy by coming to Grimmauld Place, but he could feel everyone's eyes on them, and loathed it. He was waiting for someone to pull Hermione aside and begin questioning her, and of course it would be Ron Weasley—the one least likely to understand why Hermione wanted to be with Severus.

" _I_ don't even fully understand why she wants to be with me," he growled to himself as he walked up to the gated entrance of Hogwarts.

He continued to trudge on through the snow and wind up towards the castle when he heard the _swoosh_ of someone apparating behind him. He knew without looking that it would be Hermione.

"Severus!" she called, her tone pleading.

He slowed, but only a little, and he didn't look back.

"Severus, please!" she called again, and he could hear her running through the snow to catch up with him.

"I'm surprised you didn't stay with your friends," Severus said, still not looking back.

"Severus, I know you're upset. I am, too, but—"

He spun to face her. " _You're_ upset?" he spat, and she stopped where she was, just a few feet from him, strands of her hair beginning to fall out of her elegant bun. "You should have known something like this would happen. How could _you_ be upset?"

"Severus…" she took another step towards him and held out her hand. "I was going to give you this, when it hit midnight. Your Christmas gift." In her hand was a present wrapped in dark green wrapping paper. It was shaped like a thin square. He recognized the shape immediately, and he could already feel his anger beginning to ebb away.

"Let's… let's go inside," he said, without taking the gift. He wanted to be in his sitting room where it was warm, not standing out in the cold wind and snow like this. He could see Hermione trembling from the icy air. Walking to her and placing his arm around her waist, they walked silently up to the castle.

"Severus," Hermione began as soon as they entered his chambers. "I truly am sorry, and yes, I was afraid that something like what happened would happen, but I was hoping that it wouldn't. I thought Ron had matured more than he has, apparently. I do also wish Harry had given him a warning, but I can't entirely blame Harry, either, as he probably knew Ron would want to hear it from me and not anyone else. I knew I should have warned you what—"

"Hermione," Severus cut her off, but not without tenderness. "I had a feeling something would happen as well. I suppose we should have discussed what to do if questions were asked before we went."

"I do wish you hadn't left me behind like that…" Hermione said, and the hurt in her tone was evident.

"I had to get out of there, or else I was going to duel Weasley right there in the hallway."

"I know you can control your temper better than that, Severus. You're one of the most composed wizards I know, possibly more so than even Dumbledore."

Severus allowed himself to sneer as he ran a finger down the side of Hermione's face. "I'm not sure if that is to be taken as a compliment, but I'm taking it as one."

"Right," Hermione seemed to agree. "So you should know better than to duel an ex-student at a Christmas Eve party."

"I seem…" he faltered, then barely above a whisper he confessed, "I seem to have trouble staying so well-composed if the topic concerns you…"

He saw Hermione's lips twitch and immediately felt regret for admitting such a thing.

But then the twitch disappeared, and a look of worry crossed her face. "Please tell me you're not giving up on our relationship because of what other people may think of it…"

The thought had never crossed his mind. He had, however, thought that his idea of keeping their relationship a secret for some time had been well warranted, but he chose not to tell that to Hermione just now. "No, Hermione, I'm not giving up on our relationship, and while I do care what other people may think, it's not on my behalf, it's on yours. Our friends, colleagues, and acquaintances will not easily understand why we are together."

"It's none of their business, Severus. They will ask, and that's fine, I don't mind having a conversation about it with those who want to know, but I'm not going to let gossip and looks of surprise deter me from being with you," Hermione said, brazenly.

Instead of saying anything in response, Severus walked towards his private potions lab. "Before I open my gift, let me bring out yours."

He retrieved a bouquet of flowers that was sitting on one of the counters and walked back to where Hermione was waiting for him by the fireplace in his sitting room. The light of the fire flickered over Hermione's dress and made her hair shine and shimmer.

"This is for you." Severus took a few long strides towards his lover and presented the flowers to her, hoping that a bouquet would be enough of a gift. He also hoped she would recognize what species of flowers they were.

"Dianthus flowers," she said immediately, holding them up to her nose and smiling softly. "These aren't just the dark purple ones you gave me before… these are more colorful." She held them towards the light of the fire so that the purples, reds, blues and pinks shown brightly in her hands.

"I thought you'd like to have a bouquet as opposed to just a few. I've charmed these so that they'll last longer," he explained, feeling slightly self-conscious.

"My favorite are the dark purple," Hermione said, gently touching one of the flowers' petals. "They remind me of your eyes."

Severus could feel his neck and cheeks beginning to flush. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should open my gift now?"

Hermione turned to him, smiling brightly, and nodded. She handed over the present and he took it, barely concealing a smile as he did so.

He carefully tore off the green wrapping paper and pulled out a thin, rectangular object. He realized almost immediately that it was a CD, as he had predicted, and it reminded him of the last Christmas present Hermione had given him. This CD said _Ludovico Einaudi's Eden Roc_.

"Is this his newest album?"

Hermione nodded, still smiling brightly. "I haven't even listened to it yet."

"We should listen to it tonight, then," Severus said. "Together."

"That would be wonderful." She came to him, still holding the bouquet, and brought her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

-H.G.-

It was nearing one o'clock in the morning when Hermine and Severus had finished listening to Einaudi's newest album, and there had been much cuddling and snogging throughout. They also had been drinking elderflower wine, so Hermione was feeling slightly drunk and giggly. She and Severus had never made love while she was drunk, so she felt that was why he was intentionally holding back, but he too was getting very relaxed from the wine as well. He kept smiling and laughing and kissing Hermione anywhere he could reach.

Finally, when the last song ended, Severus sat up in the bed and said, "I'm still not sure I like you comparing me to Dumbledore, even if it happens to be about my composure." Severus paused, and Hermione could tell his mood had shifted from playful to pensive. "Albus stuck his nose in a lot of places he could have stayed out of, and not doing so brought more trouble to his door than I would ever want at mine."

"That may be true. However, a lot of people _wanted_ him to stick his nose into business. He was brilliant—"

"If a bit manipulative," he finished for her, a sneer beginning to play on his lips.

"I definitely won't contradict that. Manipulative and painstakingly secretive. But plenty of witches and wizards wanted his opinion and advice. Just take Scammander and Whisp into account," Hermione said.

"Hmmm." Severus raised his wine glass. "To Dumbledore," he mumbled.

Hermione laughed. "I suppose. To Dumbledore."

They both fell into silence, staring at the ball of fire Hermione had conjured above them earlier. Hermione didn't know what her lover was thinking about, but for the past hour a question had been nagging at her mind, even through the music and drinking and giggling. "Severus," she began, hesitantly, "can you tell me what you meant when you said that your life was a living hell…" when he didn't reply immediately she added, "…or can you at least tell me why Dumbleore himself didn't even know about that time of your life?"

Severus let out a long sigh. "Does this topic truly haunt you so?"

Hermione nodded and as she did so she nuzzled her head into the crook of his arm.

Severus sighed again, but then spoke slowly, and solemnly, "Christmas time has never been enjoyable for me, Hermione. It is possible that when I was young, too young to remember, my family and I had happy Christmases together, but the only ones I remember were not happy at all. Once I went to Hogwarts, I would usually stay there for the Christmas break. I missed my mother, but I did not miss my father. When I was nine, he started drinking heavily, and he got angry, and he and my mother fought and fought. When I got my letter to attend Hogwarts, I was so glad to get out of the house and away from their screams. But by the time my fourth year came, I had started to notice the bruises on my mother's face and arms from where my father had struck her, or grabbed her, or shoved her. I knew I had to protect my mother, so I would go home for all of the holiday breaks, just to make sure my father never went too far."

Severus paused, but Hermione did not speak; she did not stir, she did not want to interrupt him now that he was finally opening up to her.

"But during my fifth year, on Christmas, my father finally went too far…" He paused again.

Hermione didn't dare breathe.

"My mother would lock my wand away whenever I came back from school. It angered my father for me to have a wand, and to prevent him from lashing out at me, she would lock it away. That Christmas, he was already drunk before dinner. My mom was trying her best to keep everything nice, but nothing she did seemed to satisfy him. The meat was overcooked, there wasn't enough beer in the house, the TV was too loud or not loud enough, and she just didn't 'care about him', she spent too much time fussing over _me_." There was a deep anger in his voice now, but he continued.

"After dinner, my father and mother began to argue. The arguing turned into my father beating my mother, and finally something seemed to snap inside me. I didn't know where my wand was, but I knew where my mother kept hers. I took her wand and screamed at my father to stop, or else, but he wouldn't. It was like he couldn't even hear me. He didn't even look at me. When I grabbed him to try and pull him off her, he shoved me down and I fell. I can't… I don't…" he faltered, and Hermione thought he might be crying, but she didn't dare look up.

"All I remember is that I got to my feet and pointed my mother's wand at my father, and I yelled at him to stop hurting her. When he didn't, something seemed to explode within me. The wand was still pointing at my father, and when I screamed again at him to stop, I—I…"

For a moment, Hermione thought he wasn't going to continue; wasn't going to say it.

"I killed him." Severus said, barely above a whisper. "I killed my father. On the Christmas before my sixteenth birthday, I became a murderer."

Hermione leaned up against him in silence, letting this information sink in. Was it what she had expected? No. But had she sensed something like this? Yes. Yes, she had always known that Severus Snape had a dark past—a dark, lonely, cruel life up to where he was now. But he had killed his father? Hermione could not even imagine how that had affected him…

"Nearly a year later," he went on, "my mother was killed. She was walking home from buying groceries in town when a car with two arguing muggles swerved violently and crashed into her. From what I understand, she was killed instantly."

Finally, Hermione found her voice. "I'm so sorry, Severus. I'm so, so sorry." She looked up at him and they met eyes. His were watery, probably like her own, but no trickles of tears were clinging to his skin. _Maybe he has already cried enough over it_ , she found herself thinking to herself.

"I wanted to tell you sooner… but I was also afraid you wouldn't be able to look at me the same way," Severus admitted. "Do you… still want to be with me, knowing that I killed my own father?"

Hermione gave him a small, soft smile. "Oh, Severus, I've already tried to explain to you that I don't need a knight in shining armor. I know your past is dark. But no matter how dark it is, you're still _a good man_."

He gifted her with a small smile in return and kissed the tip of her nose. "That was only one piece, my love. There is still much more for you to learn."

"Perhaps," she replied, her sadness for his past already beginning to fade. "But I've also seen who you are now, and the good you do for people _now_ , and nothing from your past can change that."

They began to kiss one another again, and Severus grabbed and waved his wand at the stereo that had been playing the Ludovico Eiaudi album. With a small _click_ , the music started again from the beginning, and Severus rolled on top of Hermione.

Together, they fell into the music, and into each other.

A/N: As promised, here is the next chapter, and just in time for New Year's! I only have a few more chapters planned for this story, but I hope you stay along for the ending. I hope you enjoy this longer chapter and I hope you have all had a wonderful holiday season and have a very happy new year!


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